


You Get What You Give

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Don't Let's Start [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, Angst, But until then enjoy the cute, Gen, Humor, Kuron (Voltron)-centric, Kuron is Ryou (Voltron), Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, Rated for violence in later chapters, Starts adorable and gets Heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22190206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: There's a lot that needs doing on the Castle of Lions.  Sometimes that means bath time for the Space Mice.  Sometimes that means mechanical work.  Sometimes it means handling problems so no one else has to.  Ryou plans to take on them all.Or: 5 times Ryou took care of something.
Relationships: Keith & Kuron (Voltron), Kuron & Lance (Voltron), Kuron & Pidge | Katie Holt, Kuron & Shiro (Voltron), Kuron & Space Mice (Voltron)
Series: Don't Let's Start [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/804912
Comments: 65
Kudos: 219





	1. Space Mice Cleanliness

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first technically canon installment of Don't Let's Start in quite a while!
> 
> As a note, while it is not explicit, this is also in canon with Familiar Faces. If you haven't caught that one, some of the later chapters will have deeper context with it. Some contexts and situations are gleefully stolen from Velkynkarma's Parallel by Proxy series (with permission).

The problem with a lack of taste was that it didn’t stop cravings.

Ryou prodded at the supplies in their pantry with sulky reluctance. He wanted something salty - specifically, if he had his choice, he wanted a particular brand of chips back on Earth. But even if there was a bag in front of him, it would be wasted. He could smell the food and imagine how it should taste, and instead it was just... nothing. A wad of heavy texture on his tongue, with none of the flavor he anticipated.

And yet here Ryou was, looking through the same few packages and getting increasingly annoyed at both the selection and himself. It was as useless as looking in a fridge, closing the door, then opening it again a minute later, as if anything would change.

The knowledge that he was being ridiculous did not stop Ryou.

Kneeling down, Ryou pushed through the more base ingredients - flours, sugars and the like. All things that Hunk had slowly amassed, none of which were pleasant to eat alone, and none of which were hiding something anything miraculously tasty. Yet at least looking through soothed some frustrated ache in the back of his mind.

As he shoved aside a bag of some mysterious, clumpy dark grains, it bumped against something deeper in the pantry. And that something squeaked.

A yellow head, fur matted with the same dark gray strands, stuck over the bag and glared at him.

“Oh, sorry,” Ryou said reflexively. He drew the bag back out of the way. “I didn’t mean to- wait. What are you doing in here?”

There was a pause, as Platt’s tail slowly twisted in the air. Then he dove back behind the container.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Ryou reached back and wrapped his fingers around Platt, pulling him back out and into the light. The yellow fur was completely filthy, knotted around the grains. Dusty pieces of it were smeared over his face, giving the impression he’d shoved his face in dirt.

Platt’s ears went back, openly nervous. Then he flopped onto his back, paws curled up to his chest and exposing his fluffy (and equally matted) stomach fur. His eyes, now wide and innocent, shined up at him.

Ryou just stared back flatly. “Not buying it.”

Grumbling, Platt smacked him with his tail, then turned back over onto his stomach in a distinctly grumpy little ball.

One hand on his hip, Ryou peered into the darkness of the pantry. “Alright, out. I know you’re all in there. Either come out on your own, or I’ll  _ find _ you.”

There was a long pause, then more annoyed mutters. Plachu and Chuchule both climbed out from the very bottom corner, hidden behind the little machine that cleaned the kitchen floor each evening. Their fur was completely gray from dust. Both of them trudged over, half annoyed and half guilty, then climbed up to Ryou’s shoulders to chitter at him.

Ignoring their sass, Ryou continued to glare into the gloom. “I’m waiting.”

Several seconds passed, and then there was a high pitched sigh. A jar shook, then the loose top popped off. Chulatt climbed out, absolutely covered in a brown paste.

Ryou’s eyes went wide. He scooped up Chulatt in the hand Platt already occupied, and snatched the jar with the other. Looking at the label, he winced.

Yup. That was the nutty spread that Hunk used as a peanut butter substitute.

And the entire thing had housed an unwashed space mouse.

Holding the jar up to Chulatt, Ryou narrowed his eyes. “I should tell Hunk on you. I should tell  _ Pidge _ on you.”

Immediately, Chulatt stilled. Then he hopped behind Platt’s bigger form, only the round, blue ears giving him away.

Ryou looked inside again, trying to determine if he could scoop some out and leave the rest in. But no, only about a third had been left, and the little paw prints went nearly to the bottom.

Sighing, Ryou looked over each mouse in turn. By now, they weren’t even trying to protest, and all of them hung their little heads. Chuchule clutched her tail to her cheek like a sinuous security blanket, and Plachu absolutely refused to meet his eyes.

They were trying to look pathetic, and Ryou knew it. But damn if they weren’t succeeding.

Still, that didn’t stop what he had to do next.

“Bath time.”

There was immediately a cacophony of squeaky protests.

Ryou just continued to look between them. “You’d rather I go tell Hunk right now?”

The cries silenced.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

***

Over the months and years since the team had formed, the little basin used to wash the mice had evolved. What had once been essentially a sink had slowly amassed toys and games in a futile attempt to make bath time a more tolerable activity.

The mice had taken to none of it. The only toy they enjoyed was a little floating raft, and they only liked it to get out of the water. 

Given that they were four very stubborn and precocious mice with near-human level intelligence and a willingness to coordinate, getting them all in the basin could be difficult.

So Ryou just bundled them together in his hands and dropped them in.

All four plopped into the tub, making the water splash over the sides. The tiled floor of the bathroom would be fine, and Ryou had already accepted that he was going to end up soaked.

The mice popped back up, unharmed but furious and soaking. Plachu shook his tiny, clenched paw at Ryou, his narrowed eyes promising revenge. The rest did their best to look attacked and pathetic.

“Don’t try that on me,” Ryou said. He knelt down so he was at their eye level, and pointed right back at Plachu. “I know this game. If I put you down and let you get in on your own, you’d scatter.”

None of them dignified his comment with a response. Platt climbed up onto the inflatable raft, tugging Chuchule up with him like he was saving a drowning victim. Chulatt heaved his way up onto a rubber duck, clinging tight enough that it gave a wheezy quack. Plachu didn’t even bother, clinging to the edge of the basin and waving his tail in aggrieved little circles, like an angry cat.

Well, if Plachu was going to have that attitude, then he could be first. Ryou reached for the shampoo, specially formulated for mice fur and to be gentle on the eyes. But as he did, Plachu turned in place and kicked, sending up a spray of dusty water all over Ryou’s arm.

Slowly, Ryou dropped his arm and glared at Plachu.

Plachu squeaked at him, then ducked under the water, swimming to the other side and popping up. Then he stuck out his tongue, a gesture he’d definitely picked up from one of the paladins.

That little-

Ryou reached for Plachu, but he dove underwater again, this time hiding out under the raft. Platt and Chuchule squeaked in alarm, clinging to each other dramatically as they were put in the line of fire.

“I should wait here until you  _ drown _ ,” Ryou muttered, his hand hovering over the raft. “But you know what? Fine.”

When he pulled his hand back, Plachu surfaced, gasping. The tilt of his head was distinctly smug, and he gave a taunting chitter after Ryou.

Rather than make another grab, Ryou simply twisted the cap off the shampoo and overturned the entire bottle over the basin, splashing all four in one go.

It was hardly an even coverage, and it wasted most of the bottle making the water soapy instead. But it was damn satisfying to get all of them at once.

Chulatt turned his head up and tried to complain, but as he did, his grip was made slick by both the shampoo and the wet nut butter. He slipped, crashing down in the water. When he came back up, he paddled frantically as though he was drowning. One little paw reached up for the still slick duck, but couldn’t get a grip.

“You can stand,” Ryou reminded him, faux-pleasant.

Pausing, Chulatt rested his feet on the bottom of the basin. His tail worked, then he went back to splashing, this time sulkily. But it was small, localized to his area, and therefore ignorable.

Instead, Ryou shooed at Platt and Chuchule to get them off the raft and into the water. “You too. Time to scrub and get all that dirt off you.”

Platt obeyed, reluctantly slumping his way off the side. But Chuchule looked up at him beseechingly and shook her head hard.

“You’re dusty,” Ryou replied, utterly merciless. “You’re not getting out of here and until you’re scrubbed clean. Into the water.”

Chuchule wrapped her arms and tail around herself and shivered, her wet fur fluffing as much as possible.

Seriously? “It’s not cold. I just filled it with hot water.”

Still shivering, Chuchule curled into a pathetic little ball, clearly prepared to fight him on this.

It would have been simple to flip the raft over and dump her right back into the water. Ryou knew very well that the water was warm because he was half covered in it.

On the other hand, that would only gain him retaliation, as they’d already proven. And Chuchule was already wet and soapy, so technically she didn’t need to be in the pool - just scrubbed.

Fine. If she wanted to be stubborn, then he’d get her clean all the same. Grinning triumphantly, Ryou reached down, rubbing two fingers in circles along her back and flanks so he could work the shampoo in.

Ryou expected Chuchule to complain or give up and get into the water. 

Instead, she let out a happy little sigh and sprawled out bonelessly. She unwound from her tight circle, tiny paws working happily in the air.

This wasn’t a punishment. It was a massage.

It was also the first time he’d ever seen the mice submit to washing instead of fighting it.

Rolling his eyes, Ryou eyed Chuchule even as he continued to rub. “I shouldn’t be rewarding you for getting in trouble.”

In response, Chuchule used her tail to lazily point a little lower on her back.

Ryou groaned but obligingly moved to scrub down there instead.

Once the mouse’s pink fur was completely white with suds, he tapped her on the back of her head. “Alright, party’s over. Into the bath to rinse it off, and then you can get out.”

There was a grumble. Chuchule picked her head up and pointed to her back again, this time beseechingly.

But before Ryou could respond, Platt climbed his way up onto the raft and used his superior bulk to hip check Chuchule straight off the inflatable and into the water. She emerged, soaked and pouting, but she was ignored. Instead, Platt spread out next and looked back expectantly. Plachu and Chulatt crowded in as well, eyes huge as they waited for their turns.

Ryou bit back a sigh. On one hand, it was nice that they were actually lining up to be bathed. On the other hand, he’d just personally made sure they’d never get washed without it becoming a full on spa reward for the rest of their little lives.

Well, that was Allura’s problem. Right now, Ryou only cared about making it through this particular bath time.

So instead Ryou applied himself to the task at hand, no matter how ridiculous.

***

Well over an hour of massaging, rinsing, blow drying, and mopping later, Ryou flopped back on his bed, groaning. No only had corralling the mice wiped him out, but cleaning up the mess they’d made of the bathroom and kitchen had completely drained him.

“Who needs the Galra?” Ryou muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light. “Four space mice are too much for me.”

There was a chittering laugh above him. Ryou pulled his arm back away just in time to see the air grate above his bed move and four blurs of color hop down and land on the covers.

Ryou picked his head up, head tilted. “Yes? Something up?”

Plachu shook his head no, then scampered his way up Ryou’s chest. For a moment, their eyes met and held. Then, with a satisfied nod, Plachu flopped onto his side. As soon as he did, the other mice followed, also curling up into furry little lumps in the middle of Ryou’s shirt.

Blinking slowly, Ryou just continued to stare. He had seen the mice snoozing on various couches and occasionally Allura’s lap, but never with him or Shiro. Actually, he’d never seen them sleep with anyone other than Allura, now that he thought about it.

Apparently they’d decided he was worthy.

“Bribery got me in your good graces, huh?” Ryou flopped his head back down and ran one finger down Plachu’s back.

While each of the mice were pretty small on their own, the combined heft and heat of them was significant. Ryou stayed still, suddenly very aware of the delicacy of the situation in a way he’d never felt around the mice. They were so small and fragile, easily damaged with so much as a stray movement. Yet they trusted him enough to be so vulnerable.

Shiro had never had a pet as a kid, and by extension neither had Ryou. He’d  _ wanted _ one intensely, but it never worked out. So while he’d understood and admired the way people felt protective of their pets, he’d never felt it like this.

The bath was worth it. The loss of supplies was worth it. All for this little moment of naked trust.

Ryou covered his mouth with his hand, hiding his giddy smile.

They rested like that, comfortable and silent, until there was a sudden knock at the door. Immediately, all four mice tensed, heads snapping up. Then all of them scrambled and ducked their way under Ryou’s pillow.

“It’s just the door,” Ryou said, but without heat. Despite their intelligence, they were still mice, and thus prone to skittish behavior. So instead he turned away. “Come on in.”

The door opened, and Hunk stepped through. His brow was furrowed and his hands rested unhappily on his hips.

“Hey,” Hunk said, giving a wane smile. “Sorry, were you napping? I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Ryou waved him off. “Nah, it’s fine, I was just lazing around, not asleep. What’s up?”

“Just wondering if you knew anything about this.” Hunk held up a familiar container, recently emptied and rinsed out. “This was left out on the counter. I was going to use it for snacks tonight, but looks like someone already got to it.”

Ryou opened his mouth, then paused. He could feel minute shifting on the bed, as the mice continued to huddle together under the pillow. By now, the hiding was definitely intentional, rather than natural instinct.

The consequences of this were purely on the mice. They were plenty smart enough to know what they were and weren’t allowed to get into, and they’d made a mess in the process.

But they’d also snuggled up on his chest, trusting and warm.

So Ryou gave a sheepish smile and ducked his head. “Yeah, that was... I’m sorry, that was me. I had a craving for a texture, and it was the only thing that felt right. I should have let you know I finished it off.”

Hunk sighed, but his eyes were full of sympathy. More than anyone, Ryou included, he felt bad for his lack of taste. “Alright. Next time ask if it’s this close to dinner, alright? It’s not like we can run to the store to pick up more.”

“It was thoughtless,” Ryou agreed, giving Hunk a hangdog look from under his bangs. “I’ll replace it as soon as possible.”

Sighing, Hunk looked over the container, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll get to work on a new plan for dinner.”

“Sorry!” Ryou called again, as Hunk ducked back out with a final wave. 

There was a squeak and Ryou’s pillow lifted up. Four pairs of tiny eyes peered up questioningly at him.

Ryou arched a brow at them, then lifted the pillow the rest of the way. “You might want to get out of there before I lay back and you get squished.”

The mice obligingly scrambled out of the way, and Ryou flopped back down. Then Chuchule came over, one paw resting on his shoulder and head tilted.

Ryou sighed. “I’ll cover for you this one time. But it only worked because I’ve never caused Hunk trouble like that before. This is your one free pass. So next time, stay out of trouble, okay?”

Chuchule’s head tilted the other way, her pink ears swaying with the motion. Then she moved in even closer, curling up against his neck and jaw and nuzzling in. A moment later, the rest of them joined, until Ryou practically had a scarf of affectionate mice.

“You’re only being sweet because I got you out of trouble,” Ryou mumbled, but he smiled anyway.

In a bit he’d go and see if he could help Hunk with dinner. For now, he was going to enjoy this moment.


	2. Lion Maintenance

“There we go,” Ryou pronounced, patting Yellow’s flank. The impact of metal on metal rang out in the otherwise quiet room. “How’s that feel, buddy?”

A pleased rumble ran through Ryou’s mind. There was a thump against his chest, like an actual Earth-lion was bunting against his chest.

“Was all that grit annoying? Well, glad to help, then.” Ryou’d fingers instinctively twitched as he fought the urge to scratch the open air. “Let me know if you’re still feeling any friction at your joints. I think I got all the pieces out of there, but it’s hard to tell when there was so much.”

The only response was more of that warm, radiating happiness, so Ryou smiled. Between him and Hunk, they were pretty hard on Yellow. That extra plating meant that he could bash through fighter ships without a scratch. But scrap metal sometimes got jammed in unfortunate places, and during busy times it could build up.

Which also made for a convenient excuse to bow out of a diplomatic mission. They didn’t need him for anything, and the castle and Yellow could always use some TLC. If there was some downtime, he’d rather take advantage of it. It was a better use of his talents anyway.

Ryou continued to brush his hand along Yellow’s flank, as if the lion could feel the touch at all. Even so, Yellow’s mental purring got louder, responding to the effort and fondness rather than the actual contact.

As he sat there, fingers running idly over the cool metal, Ryou let his mind wander over what else needed doing on the castle. If he was going to beg off of a diplomatic mission, he should at least be productive while everyone else was working. 

As always, the To Do list was horrifically long. The control room wiring needed a thorough inspection, since it kept sputtering alarmingly at unfortunate times - thus far, emergency Space , Mouse repairs had held up, but it was still dangerous. The engine could also use with a check-up, and the food goo piping unit definitely needed a clean-out. That wasn’t even touching the dozens of places that needed their air filter system checked, including the decontamination chamber.

All of which was necessary, but none of which was an emergency. Ryou let his fingers continue to swirl idly over Yellow’s plating, weighing what was the most important against what was the most tolerable to do.

Before he could decide, there was a distant, tinny murmur. Ryou blinked, knocked out of his thoughts, then dove for his helmet. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Hello, Ryou,” Keith said, voice tired but satisfied in the way that spoke of a successful Blade mission. “Could someone open a hanger? I’ll be at the Castle in a few ticks.”

“Hey!” Ryou grinned at the ceiling, as if he could pinpoint the direction Keith was coming in from. His chest tightened with mixed relief and fondness, then crashed back down a level. It was a familiar feeling - basically, the way Ryou always felt when he hadn’t seen Keith in a bit.

Despite everything, a part of Ryou always felt like Keith was his oldest friend. Even when he wasn’t, not technically.

Scrambling over to the closest computer, Ryou pulled up the Castle’s control system. “Okay, yeah, go ahead to Black’s hangar. I’d say prepare for the welcome party, but you’ll have to wait a bit. Everyone else is on planet for negotiations.”

“Gives me a chance to put down my bag,” Keith said, a note of fond laughter to his voice. “When are they expected back?”

“A few hours?” Ryou shrugged. “Who knows with these things. I’ll call down if they’re not back by night cycle.” He gave Yellow one last pat, then started for the hallway.

“Gotcha. Alright, heading in now.”

Ryou managed to make it all the way to Black’s hangar before Keith stepped out of his ship. He was still wearing his Mamora uniform, the helmet retracted to show his face. His hair was wild, like he’d been sweaty and let it dry without touching it. Despite the tired note to his voice before, his eyes were bright and his steps sure.

Keith raised his fist in greeting, which Ryou happily tapped with his own. Uninspired as it was, he still liked their unique little greeting. “Good to see you.”

“You too.” Ryou hesitated only a moment before reaching out and ruffling Keith’s hair. “You’re a mess. Do the Blades not have showers?”

“Not in the way you’d think.” Keith ducked his head from the ministrations, swatting Ryou’s hand away. But he didn’t bother to hide his smile. “You know, just because you’re a jerk while you do it doesn’t mean you’re not fussing.”

“Someone’s got to, and I’m the only one avaliable.” Ryou chased Keith’s head for a moment, fingers curled into threatening claws, before giving up with a chuckle.

Keith snorted, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “It’s really not necessary,” he said, bone dry in a way he’d definitely picked up from Shiro. Then he tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, anyway? Why’d everyone go on without you?”

“Eh, I just had stuff to do, and I figured I’d be more help here.” Ryou shrugged, then caught Keith’s critical eye. He frowned. “What?”

“Are you sick?”

“No.” Ryou rolled his eyes. Hard. “I just didn’t want to go. Seriously, it should be a simple negotiation. I’d be standing around bored. So I figured I’d get some work done on the castle instead. I just finished up with Yellow, and I was about to move onto the next project.” 

His eyes tracked passed Keith, passed the little ship he’d flown, and up to Black.

Black, who despite having the most paladins, probably got the least TLC. Shiro and Allura were constantly run ragged by coalition work, and Keith was gone as often as he wasn’t. Between the three of them, they barely had time to sleep, much less spend on something as mundane and tertiary as washing off a lion.

Black, who still made Ryou’s heart clench, not dissimilar to Keith.

“Ah,” Keith said. His tone was a little suspicious still, which was... well, it was fair. He was well trained in second guessing reassurances, since Shiro was so cagey when he felt bad. But he seemed to let it go, in favor of following Ryou’s gaze. “You’re working on the Black Lion?”

“It’s that or rewire the control room,” Ryou replied flatly. “I’ll take any excuse to put off that job.”

Keith wrinkled his nose in sympathy. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” His fingers curled around the strap of his bag as he glanced from the lion, to Ryou, and back. “Are you sure? I’ve got some down time until everyone gets back. I can handle it.”

Brows up, Ryou looked Keith over. “You just got back and it looks like you left right after a mission. Go rest up. I’ve got this.”

“I’m fine. And this isn’t your responsibility.” Keith’s eyes flickered over Ryou’s face, considering. “It’s easier when you can talk to the lion.”

Ryou’s stomach flipped, but he continued to meet Keith’s gaze. He forced his hands to stay loose at his side, rather than tense up. Reacting would give away more of himself than he wanted. “There’s ways around that, which you know.”

“I said easier, not that it’s impossible.”

What was Keith going for, here? Was he worried Ryou would mess something up? Or maybe that this too painful for Ryou.

But it wasn’t worry that curved Keith’s shoulders in, or curled his fingers tight around his bag strap. There was a tilt to his jaw, like he wanted to duck his head, but he was fighting it.

That wasn’t wariness. That was defensive.

Ryou’s stomach dropped. Reaching out, he squeezed Keith’s shoulder. “Hey. I’m not judging you or, or Shiro, or anybody about it. I’m not working on Black because you’ve been neglecting her. It’s just good timing.”

Keith’s eyes widened. He tensed up, but released it with a sigh. “Even if you don’t mean it that way, it’s kind of true, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re for sure in charge of maintenance for a ship you don’t fly, located on another ship you’re only on for a few days at a time, in the free time you don’t have between your two jobs. For shame.”

Color bloomed on Keith’s cheeks. He swatted his hand through the air, as if trying to physically wave Ryou’s words away. “It’s part of one of those jobs.”

“Yeah, well, Shiro has that job too, and so does Allura. So unless you plan on getting on their case, don’t get on your own.” Ryou rested a hand on his hip, brows up as he waited.

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it. He huffed out his breath and shrugged. “I guess. Still, I have time now, so why not just let me help you?”

Alright, this was officially wasted breath. Ryou rolled his eyes and stepped around Keith. “Fine, fine. Go drop off your bag and take a shower while I get everything together, and then you can help. Deal?”

“Deal.” With that, Keith whirled on one heel, the motion so smooth and practiced that it must be from Blade training drills, and disappeared through the door.

Ryou looked up at Black, one brow raised. “You know, all things considered? You’d think I’d understand your paladins more.”

As always, there was no response, no movement.

Ryou was used to that. Even so, a sharp, metallic taste filled his mouth.

Shaking his head at himself, Ryou got to work.

***

“Feels better already.”

Ryou turned off the compressed air hose and pulled off his goggles to shoot Keith a bland smile. He was perched up on one of Black’s front paws and already dusted with dirt from cleaning. “Not surprising. I’ve barely gotten started, and I think I’ve already shaken loose a small meteor’s worth of rock from between Black’s plating.”

Keith frowned, a flash of that same guilty discomfort over his face. But this time he shook it off as he climbed up the ladder after Ryou. Without needing to be asked, he picked up a brush and started to clear off the dust and dirt that had sprayed out from the air treatment.

For a moment, Ryou paused, off-balance and not sure why. But he was used to working with Hunk on lion clean-up, and if not, he hung out around Lance a lot while he worked. Both of them were talkers, filling the hours with idle chatter.

Keith was not. For Shiro at the Garrison, that had been a comfort. Keith had been one of the few who wasn’t trying to impress him, to gain his favor, or to try to pick his brain. They’d been able to just sit in silence and be totally comfortable together.

Shrugging off the thought, Ryou dug into the tool kit and took out another pair of goggles. He dropped it directly onto Keith’s head, just to watch him jolt. It fell, but Keith snatched it out of the air with frankly annoying reflexes, then pulled it on.

If it wasn’t so  _ Keith, _ Ryou would have teased him for being a show-off.

Once his own goggles were back on, Ryou continued his work. It was a lot easier with another set of hands. Blasting the joint with air unleashed a lot of debris in one go, but it was a blunt instrument. If a rock or piece of metal was at a bad angle, the brush was necessary. It could knock loose what resisted being blown away.

Between the two of them, the front right leg took less than five minutes. Ryou shook his head, settling his hair back into place after all the blasts of air, then looked to Keith. “How’s that?”

Keith paused, head tilted. “Good. Hold on.”

That was all the warning Ryou got before the leg under them started to move. He scrambled at the plating, only barely managing a handhold as the Black Lion shifted like she was testing her weight on the limb. Keith, on the other hand, simply rocked with the movements, able to anticipate them in advance.

“Much better,” Keith announced. He rested his hand on the metal, gaze soft as he looked up at Black’s face. Then he arched his brows at Ryou. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Ryou let go of his sudden grip, stepping carefully as if Black would start moving again. “That’s way worse when you can’t tell what’s coming.”

“Sorry.” Keith shrugged, but he did actually look contrite. His expression fell further as he looked at Ryou. “Were you going to work on all the lions?”

Ryou wrapped the air compressor hose around his shoulder, then tucked the air tank under one arm. “Probably not. The rest of them get more maintenance. Pidge is pretty much always working on Green, and Hunk and I help Lance out with Red and Blue, since he’s kind of taken on both. Really, though, only Yellow needs us to clean him up regularly. We’re hard on the poor guy.” 

When he turned to climb down the ladder, he looked up and saw Keith still watching him.

“What?”

Keith’s jaw worked for a moment, like he was carefully considering his words. The hesitation was so uncharacteristic that Ryou put down the air tank to wait.

Finally, Keith sigh. “It’s just... you don’t have to. For Black, I mean. Since...” He gestured vaguely between the lion’s face and Ryou.

“I know I don’t have to.” Ryou followed the movement of Keith’s hand, looking up at the Black Lion. A trick of their pupiless eyes made them always seem to be watching. Even at this bad angle, it still held true. “Is this, like, a Black Paladin only deal? Do you not want me working on her?”

“What? No.” Keith’s head snapped around to stare at him. “Why would I? I would have said before. I just figured it was weird for you.”

Ryou’s expression twisted as he looked away. He tapped his feet against the side of the air compressor, shifting it slightly with each tap. “Ah. No, not more than any of the others. I’m good. Yellow is good.”

Keith continued to stare, his eyes bright and far too thoughtful.

So Ryou put his palm over Keith’s face. “Stop that.”

Jolting, Keith smacked Ryou’s hand away. “Hey! Stop what?”

“Looking at me.”

Keith’s brows both jumped up. He crossed his arms and stared up at him even harder.

Yeah, okay, Ryou would do the same thing if their roles were reversed.

Scowling back, Ryou heaved up the air tank again and carefully picked his way down the ladder. “Okay, it’s not the same as the other lions. But it’s still fine. I can manage a basic maintenance job without, like, swooning and crying or whatever.”

Keith peered down from Black’s foot. Then, rather than use the ladder, he simply hopped off the side and dropped the ten feet or so. He landed in a crouch that would have made Ryou’s knees creak, but didn’t seem to bother him at all.

Damn aliens.

“Alright, alright,” Keith said shaking his head. “It just didn’t seem fair, that’s all.”

Ryou’s expression softened, and his chest tightened with fondness. He placed his free hand on top of Keith’s head. “It’s not. You’re right. But it’s not fair in a way I can live with. Life’s not fair. There are times I stand my ground, and times I let it go. Black’s choice is what it is, no matter the reason. I respect it.”

Looking up at him, Keith gave a thin smile. “She picked me instead. And I think I like it even less than you.”

“Black’s not wrong, though.” Ryou patted Keith’s head, then let his hand slide off limply, fingers brushing over the long strands as it went. “Did you ever find your answer? Is being the Black Paladin not what you want, or are you just afraid of hurting Shiro?”

Keith reached for the ladder to take along, fingers curled tightly like it grounded him. With his feet planted firmly and his shoulders tight, he looked... relaxed enough, but like he could turn around and use the ladder as a weapon in a second if he needed to.

Keith had always been tense, coiled like he was prepared for an attack from any source. Months and years of warfare had honed that further into a constant, casual edge.

An ache took root in Ryou’s stomach at the thought. He wasn’t sure if Voltron or the Blades have done more to encourage such instinctive defensiveness in Keith, but it was hard to see either way.

Shiro was the same way, but Ryou knew exactly what caused that. For Keith, it’d been a thousand tiny moments, so far as Ryou knew. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

Oblivious to Ryou, Keith just shrugged. “Not really,” he admitted, surprisingly casual. Or maybe it was only surprising because Ryou expected the same guilty avoidance Keith aimed at Shiro on the subject. “It’s not really something I think about when I’m gone.”

“And you’re gone a lot.”

Keith shrugged again and walked to the next limb of the Black Lion, not looking back.

Ryou followed, steps habitually silent, after everything. “Are the Blades what you want?”

That did make Keith pause. His fingers shifted on the ladder as he braced it on Black. “Nothing’s exactly what I want,” he finally said. “But the Blades are good.”

“Good.”

Ryou waited.

Keith didn’t continue. Instead, he climbed up the ladder, then held his hand down to help take the air compressor tank.

Handing it up, Ryou followed, not bothering to hide the way he was studying Keith. For his part, Keith didn’t so much as blink at the scrutiny. Apparently he felt like he’d said his piece, because he just set up the equipment and waited.

Ryou bit back his first, less flattering opinion. That it wasn’t like Keith to run away from his fears. Because, in a way, it was very like him - he lashed out first, before he could be hurt. Before he could be rejected.

“Well,” Ryou finally said, voice full of jovial cheer, “home’s always waiting for you.”

Keith ducked his head, hiding his eyes behind his now long bangs. But that didn’t hide the flash of a smile, the hint of color on his cheeks.

Hah. Got him.

While Keith recovered, Ryou started up the machine, working the debris out of Black’s left wrist joint. He hummed to himself, though the roar of the air totally covers the noise, and smiles as Keith started to work in the brush.

The job went as quickly as the last. When Ryou finally shut off the air, Keith arched a brow at him. “So, what’s the real reason why you aren’t with everyone else?”

“I said already. Didn’t feel like it.”

It was a little petty to leave it at that. Ryou made a show of examining Black’s joint for debris they missed, rather than meet Keith’s flat stare. But after Keith’s short responses, Ryou wasn’t above a little return fire.

“That’s all?” Keith replied, each word slowly picked. “You just... didn’t want to.”

Finally, Ryou turned to look at him. “I was telling the truth before. I figured I’d be more use here. If the whole team is there, I’m not usually the one doing the talking, you know? I mean, I could be, but I’d have to watch my words more, and I...” He shrugged one shoulder as he gently brushed his fingers along the metal. “I usually stay quiet. Allura and Shiro have it handled.”

Guilt squirmed into Ryou’s stomach, but he squashed it down. Yes, he could have taken over, but neither of them  _ needed _ that, not for this. Ryou had better uses, like the dozens of little tasks that fell by the wayside.

And he deeply and genuinely  _ didn’t want to. _ Which was childish. Who wanted to sit around in boring talks and handle negotiations? Everyone else put up with it, and Ryou had on dozens of occasions, both as himself and in his memories.

None of that stopped the ice from forming in his blood when he thought about joining them.

Keith tilted his head, looking Ryou up and down. Then he gave a short nod. “That makes sense.”

Ryou paused, surprised by... well, by the lack of surprise. “It does?”

“Yeah.” Keith flapped a vague hand toward Ryou, mostly at his face. “You said you keep quiet. It makes sense, because you don’t really talk diplomatically. You’re pretty blunt, or else you make jokes about whatever’s happening. Like Lance.”

“I’d say I picked it up from him, but that’s a lie. I’m Shiro with the self-control cut out.”

“You’re really not, though.”

Ryou froze, heart racing.

Keith continued on, either oblivious to Ryou’s reaction, or strategically ignoring it. “I don’t think it’s self-control. I think it’s honesty. Shiro’s a lot of great things, but honesty really isn’t one of his virtues.”

“No, it’s not,” Ryou agreed softly. He turned around, tucking his legs under him, and let his arms flop into his lap. “I’m not sure I’d call it one of mine, either.”

“I would.” Keith sat down as well, using his hands to brace himself on Black’s paw. He met Ryou’s gaze directly and gave him a small smile. “How often have I heard you use the phrase ‘I have to be honest with myself?’”

Ryou’s brow furrowed as he thought back, trying to recall how often he said the phrase, especially in front of Keith. “I’m usually kidding.” Or, at least, he was being flip. Most of the time, he said the phrase about being a clone.

“You’re being sarcastic, yeah. But you do that about being brothers, too. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Well, Keith had him there.

There was a pause, as Keith waited for Ryou to reply, and Ryou... well, he didn’t. He had no idea what to say about the observation. Something about it made him tense as his stomach flipped.

It was rare that Ryou was compared against Shiro and found better. He didn’t really know what to do with the compliment. Especially one he was so sure was  _ false. _ Ryou was a liar. He just rarely admitted to it.

Finally, Keith sighed and let his head fall back, hair tumbling past his shoulders. It really was getting long, now. More than enough for a ponytail, though probably not enough for a braid. “So, yeah, I’m not surprised you decided to bail. You’d have to hold your tongue more, and I think it makes you uncomfortable.”

That was honestly accurate. Ryou’s brows came together, and then he let out a bark of laughter as it finally clicked into place. “Being diplomatic feels like acting like Shiro. Huh. Yeah, you’re right. I thought I was just being lazy.” Ryou used his boot to poke Keith in the thigh. “So much for being honest with myself, if you could see it and I couldn’t.”

Keith smirked. “I said you were honest, not smart.”

Ryou’s answering kick to the thigh only made him laugh.

Keith scooted farther up, so he was shoulder to shoulder with Ryou instead. “Okay, what next?”

“Well, you tell me, Black Paladin. Does her Cat Queenship require our special luxury oiling this evening?”

Snorting, Keith closed his eyes. “If you’re going to keep calling her ‘Cat’, then yes, apparently.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Ryou looked up until he could see the underside of Black’s jaw. “Does the widdle kitty cat need a rubby-wubby?”

“Ugh.” Keith covered his face with one hand, and shoved Ryou’s shoulder with the other. “It’s shit like this that makes people think you’re still bitter, you know.”

Ryou just smirked. “Maybe just a little.” When he looked down, Keith was staring again, so he groaned. “Ah, hell. I’m not. This is just the dynamic now, I guess. It needed to be something, and it’s... complicated. Whatever. I’ve got a better idea than oiling anyway.” Without waiting for Keith to follow, Ryou snagged the air canister and slid off the side of Black’s paw.

Keith poked his head over the top, both brows up. “What’s that?”

“Take me on a ride.”

Keith’s head whipped to the side, looking at the little cruiser he’d come in on. “Oh, sure. It’s a pretty simple design if you want to do the flying, and-”

He froze. Slowly, he looked up instead, seeing the same tall, looming underside of Black that Ryou had moments ago. He swallowed, the bob of his adam’s apple visible even from a distance.

“Oh.”

Ryou smiled up at him and set aside the air canister. Then he held out his arms, offering to catch Keith if he jumped - not that he needed it. But in the moment, it felt right. “It’ll be nice to fly in Black. And, honestly? I think we could both use time in her without Shiro.”

They both loved Shiro. No one could question that. But the man made things  _ complicated, _ most especially for the people he cared about.

Because, well, he was human. Sometimes, Shiro wanted more from the people around him than they wanted to give. He wanted them to be  _ better. _ Or, more accurately, he saw them as better already, and pushed them to meet that.

It was hard. Shiro meant well, pushed only out of love, and he was rarely wrong about what the people around him were capable of. But it was also exhausting. Failure, or even avoidance, had a way of bruising the heart, no matter how good Shiro’s intentions were.

“No pressure. No promises. No real reason. Just fly with me, and let’s see how it feels.”

Keith’s eyes stayed wide. Then a smile grew, like sunlight cresting over an orbiting planet. Like a sunset from a distance, in totality.

“Brace yourself.” With that, he jumped, using Ryou’s shoulder as a springboard instead of falling into his arms. He landed neatly on the other side of him, and turned around grinning. “Yeah. Let’s fly.”

Both of them definitely had better things to be doing, especially while everyone else was working.

But... fuck it.

The Black Lion’s head lowered, the jaw opening easily to let Keith in. Ryou tailed after, looking around with a detached sense of peace.

This wasn’t his space. He’d been here several times with Shiro, mostly for missions, and he’d always been deeply aware that Black wasn’t his.

She still wasn’t. And part of Ryou would probably always be wistful, like he might be over a lost first love.

But it would ease. It was already so much easier, and time would only heal the wound more. All he’d said to Keith was true - he respected the decision. He even respected Black, when pushed.

It was all so much easier when they were goofing around, too.

“How’s it feel?” Ryou asked, as Keith settled into the pilot’s seat. The console lit up in welcome for him.

Keith’s fingers curled around the controls. His feet planted, like they had with the ladder outside. Here, though, it wasn’t like he was wielding a weapon. It was like he was the completion of a circuit.

It was easy to understand what Shiro saw in Keith. Ignoring all the other complications, Keith looked steady in the chair.

Except for his eyes, locked on the screens but a thousand yards away. Likely to those weeks - months - of desperate searching. Of looking for Shiro over and over, until he was dragged away.

Instead he’d found Ryou. Saved him.

Ryou put his hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing it. When he looked over, he gave him a small, thankful smile.

Keith’s eyes lit up, and his lips curled in a shaky but answering smile. He nodded, acknowledgement without either of them saying a word.

Closing his eyes, Ryou took a deep breath, then tentatively reached out through a bond he’d never really had.

_ Thank you. _

Because Black had saved him too. That had been tangled and lost in the rejection after, tainting the relationship. But she had.

Black had a way of making things complicated, too. Like lion, like paladin. 

A hand curled around Ryou’s. He jumped, eyes snapping open, to see Keith squeezing the fingers on his shoulder.

“Glad you’re here,” Keith said, soft and gentle. From the shine in his eyes, he meant it from both himself and the lion..

“Glad to be here.” Ryou blinked away heat behind his eyes. Honest or not, he didn’t really feel like sniffling in the Black Lion when they could be having fun. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Keith’s smile bloomed into something brighter, with far more teeth. 

“Let’s go.”


	3. A Broken Ankle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerd level: Made a grammatical structure and dictionary for a fictional language.
> 
> Dumbass level: Not saving the notepad with that info later for translation in the notes.

Ryou had become used to waking up with screws imprinted on his cheeks.

The room was still dark, for which Ryou was deeply thankful. His head throbbed like he had a hangover, which probably meant he hadn’t gotten any real rest while he was asleep. If the light cycle hadn’t turned over to morning yet, he might be able to get a couple hours before starting the day.

When he picked his head up, the world seemed to tilt around him. Ryou scrambled, trying to catch the edges of the table for balance. But instead he jammed his knuckles hard into something flat and hard below him. 

Ryou bit back a curse and stilled, waiting out the vertigo. As he did, he realized it wasn’t just his face laying on cold metal - his whole body was sprawled out on the surface, rather than curled up to doze on the table.

Either he’d fallen onto the floor and didn’t wake up, or he wasn’t in his lab at all.

Alarm overcame the nausea. Ryou pushed himself up, blinking rapidly to orient himself. The room was small, illuminated only by a faint bit of light peeking around the edges of closed double doors. It utterly lacked the small, constant blue lights of the castle.

It was also completely packed with piles of machines. Pieces of Galra sentries, from discarded shards to full heads. A crankshaft and intercooler from a warship engine. Several blasters, but all of which looked like they’d taken fire already.

Not all of it was Galra, either. There was some cubic thing that looked like it belonged to the Borg, if anything, and dozens of pieces of computers that each likely came from a different species’ technology. The floor was littered with screws, nails, fastenings, or bits and bobs from who knew how many different pieces of technology.

It was, in short, a complete mess.

On top of another pile, limp and silent, was a familiar figure in white and green armor.

“Pidge!” The named burst out of Ryou in a relieved sigh. Being alone would have made it far harder to figure out what was going on and how to get out. If he wanted to be trapped with anyone in a room full of old tech, it was probably Pidge (or Hunk).

Pushing up onto his knees, Ryou walked his way over. The ceiling was low enough that he didn’t want to stand and risk knocking his head, so instead he shuffled his way through the discarded plating and robot pieces.

Pidge didn’t stir at his call, nor at the commotion he made getting over. Her helmet was off, and her curls were a complete mess, stuck to her face like she’d been sweating - not an unusual sight. But when combined with her stillness, alarm bells went off in Ryou’s mind.

Place a hand on her exposed back, Ryou gave her a tiny shake. “Pidge?” He repeated, much quieter and more tentative than before.

Finally, Pidge’s whole face screwed up, and she turned away from him with a protesting groan.

Well, at least she was alive and semi-responsive. Clearly not feeling great, but neither was Ryou. He had no memory of how either of them had ended up here - always a bad sign - but he’d be willing to bet what knocked them out was chemical. It would explain why Pidge was still out of it. Smaller body, bigger dose.

For now, he could get her more comfortable. She was draped over pieces of metal, unlike Ryou who had mostly landed on the bare floor. Her armor protected her from the worst of it, but the way she was bent was going to be hell when she woke up.

Ryou shifted his arms under Pidge’s back and thighs, then lifted.

Only for her to  _ scream. _

Instinctively, Ryou dropped her and scrambled back, eyes wide. Luckily, she only had an inch or so to fall, but settling drew out another groan. Pidge curled up and reached down, clutching one of her legs in both hands. Her eyes, now wide open, filled with tears as she panted. Each breath ended with a raspy, animalistic whine.

With so little light, most of the room was in deep shadow. Ryou couldn’t see what was wrong with her leg, only the outline of her actions. One pile in particular blocked Pidge from the minimal light from under the door. 

Ryou dove for that, shoving over as much of it as he could in one go. The noise made Pidge flinch. She looked up at him, eyes wild and shining wetly as she bared her teeth. It took her a moment to recognize him, and most of the fight faded from her face. 

Moving the trash gave Ryou just enough light to see by. Now, he could see that Pidge’s boot was more than twice the size of the other. The Altean engineering had automatically resizing to fit the paladin’s body as needed.

Very swollen. Likely broken.

“Ryou?” Pidge asked, picking her head up farther. Despite how much pain she had to be in, her voice was steady. “Where are we?”

“Honestly? I was hoping you knew.” Moving over, Ryou winced and looked over her ankle. “Can you move your hands for me?”

Pidge let out a watery bark of laughter. “Why? What do you think you’re going to do about it?” Her fingers tightened on her thigh, just above where the break must have been.

Not a bad question. Really, Ryou had no idea what to do. Field Medicine had been Shiro’s single blight on his otherwise shining 4.0 GPA. He’d picked up a few tricks later, which Ryou remembered while Shiro himself didn’t. But none of it could really help.

Defeated, Ryou leaned back on his heels. “We can at least try to splint it,” he offered. “And it helps it know how bad the injury is.”

“It’s bad.” Pidge’s jaw set stubbornly. She watched him through her bangs, as if he was going to suddenly smack her ankle around for no reason.

The distrust... well, Ryou couldn’t say it didn’t hurt. But he was well aware that Pidge had a temper on her. It wasn’t really about him. It was her bad mood coming out.

“I don’t want to take off the boot,” she continued. “I don’t think it’ll go back on after.” She traced very gently around the circumference of her ankle, showing off the degree to which it had swollen.

Considering how the boot was made, Ryou was willing to bet it  _ could _ go back on, but that it would basically be torture. Not something he was willing to do to anyone, much less Pidge.

So Ryou sighed and nodded. “Okay. We’ll leave it, and try to find something to keep your ankle in place.” He held out his hands, palms up, and gestured grandly around him. “I’m betting there’s something here.”

Pidge followed the gesture, and for the first time seemed to take in the room. She let out a quiet, mirthless chuckle. “Whoever nabbed us doesn’t know us very well, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Except both their helmets were gone, which was their main method of communicating. Ryou reached down to his thigh and grasped at the bayard holster. But his fingers closed on open air, and there was no flash of light. Which meant no claws to bust their way out.

Chest tight, Ryou raised his arm, holding it across his body like he was about to strike. Something on his arm sparked.

Then pain.

Ryou’s hand snapped to his prosthesis, clutching it in a grip that would have bruised flesh and blood. He curled in on himself. His forehead pressed into the floor and his eyes squeezed together. Each breath punched out from behind clenched teeth. A garbled groan forced through his tense throat despite his instinct to silence his pain. The tendons of his throat tensed and strained like strings of a guitar.

The pain stopped.

Ryou took a deep breath like his head had been held underwater. His head snapped up, eyes automatically roaming over the room. Dark still. Only Pidge was there, and she wasn’t able to get closer. The door was firmly closed. No other exits.

Eyes wide, Pidge stared at Ryou. Even in the dim lighting, she was pale, either from her injury or from the fright he’d just given her. “What happened?”

“Uh.” Ryou turned so his right side faced Pidge, fingers roaming over the little disc on the side. “I’m guessing this. I can’t see it.”

“C’mere.” Pidge started to scoot forward, but winced when it jarred her leg.

Ryou winced at the same moment in sympathy. “Hey, no, leave the leg work to me.” He walked over on his knees again, still wary of the low ceiling, and offered her his arm.

Pidge’s fingers were warm as they curled around his bicep. Without asking, she tugged until he leaned back, giving her better lighting to see. She tried several times to get her nails under whatever it was, but finally gave up with an insulted little huff. “No good. I don’t even know how this thing is attached. Magnets?”

“Pretty strong magnet for such a little thing.” Ryou tried to push it, like he would slide a fridge magnet, but it didn’t budge.

Pidge pressed her lips together in a frustrated line and reached down for her hip. Her fingers grasped air, just as Ryou’s had done moments before. “I could try to pry it off with my bayard, but...”

“Seems like they knew enough about us to disarm us,” Ryou agreed. He looked over the room again. “No tools either, but we can probably still put something together.”

Pidge’s expression twisted as her hands flopped back into her lap. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“We’d gone to repair the local communications radar,” Ryou replied immediately. “You’d climbed to the top to adjust the dish angle, while I was working on the wiring. Then...” He trailed off pointedly, spreading his arms wide.

Pidge nodded her agreement. She looked down at her ankle and made a face. “They probably knocked us out. And then I probably slid off, and that’s how this happened.”

Ouch. Ryou made a soft noise of sympathy. Pulling over some scraps of stray fabric and a rod about half the length of Pidge’s calf, he started to prep a make-shift splint.

Sighing, Pidge picked up the decapitated sentry head and held it in her hands like she was about to give a soliloquy. Then she pointed aggressively into the blank face. “What about you? How’d we get here? Tell us everything you know.”

Ryou slowly raised one brow. Then he picked up the sentry head and used one finger to flap the slack jaw. “I ain’t telling you nothin’, copper.”

A smile flashed over Pidge’s face, the first since she’d woken up. Then it morphed into an exaggerated scowl. “Oh, you’re gunna talk one way or another. I’ve got ways.”

“I’ll tell you one thing.” Ryou leaned forward, looming the head in closer to Pidge’s face. “You can’t make me do anything. Because I’ll always be a  _ head _ of you.”

Pidge’s mouth fell open. Then she shoved her hand against Ryou’s shoulder, pushing him away. She gave a deep, pained groan, but this time in emotional pain rather than physical. “You’ve become worse than Hunk.”

“The student has become the master,” Ryou agreed cheerfully. He grinned back, unbothered by her dramatics. He looked at her, still clearly in pain despite her amusement, and the smile slipped.

Guilt churned in his stomach. Just a few minutes ago, he’d been glad to have Pidge. He hadn’t wanted to be alone. But now that he was more awake, and the reality of the situation had settled in, shame sat in him like a swallowed weight.

No one should have to know what it felt like to be a captive.

The fact that it was Pidge made it worse. As capable and brilliant as she was, there was always a part of Ryou that would see her as Sam and Matt’s family. Even if it was a leftover from Shiro, he still found himself wondering how he’d explain the situation to her father. If he could look the man in the eye and honestly say he’d done his best by her.

Pidge finally finished making faces and looked up at him. His silence had gone on too long, because now her shoulders tensed. She reached up, fingers gently resting on his right arm again. “Does it still hurt?”

“No.” Ryou cupped the side of her head and offered what he hoped was a bracing smile. “Only when I tried to activate it. I’m fine otherwise. Wish I could say the same for you.”

Pidge swallowed hard. “Me too.” She offered a thin smile back, probably a mirror of Ryou’s no matter what he’d intended. “It’s okay. Between the two of us, we’ll put together something that’ll blast the door off, get our stuff off, and blow the place up as we leave.”

It was a tall order without tools, but they’d faced far worse odds. Ryou nodded back, smile growing to show his teeth. “I’d say they won’t know what hit ‘em, but.... I think we’ll make sure they see exactly who got them back.”

Pidge’s answering grin was closer to barred teeth. “Bring me everything useful, and let’s see what we can do.”

***

Of all the technology around them, the vast majority was exactly what it looked like: broken junk. Ryou spent the better part of two hours just organizing the pieces into something resembling order. 

One pile became anything that looked remotely usable - the engine pieces, sprints, pistons, a mostly functional robot arm, one of the blasters, a set of what have been circuit boards. That also included the hundreds of screws and fastenings, shoved together by size and style.

The biggest section became just casing, ruined bits of metal, and other pieces that served no specific function themselves. Most of it was far too twisted or in too small pieces to be of any use, but at least it put them all together. 

After that was... well, it was everything Ryou didn't recognize. That was also a distressingly large pile. It included a set of rocks cut like diamonds that were so heavy that Ryou could barely lift them. There was also some strange, shining goop that he swore moved when he wasn’t looking at it, among many others.

At the cleared center sat Pidge, her broken ankle elevated on a mound of scraps. She had a small selection of the most helpful looking pieces of technology scattered around her. Next to her sat the sentry head, now with springs stuck straight up on the top like a shock of hair.

“You and Doc Brown got any ideas?”

Pidge made a face. “Dozens. But nothing that helps us. Every time I think of something we could use to get out, I can’t actually make it.” She shook the blaster in her hands, making the inside contents rattle. The back half of it was completely gone, and the sheared metal edges were blackened. 

Tilting his head, Ryou turned back toward the ‘maybe useful’ pile. “I think I saw the other half of a blaster in here.”

“Was it Galra?”

“No. No clue where it was from.”

“Don’t bother.”

Ryou’s head snapped up, drawn by Pidge’s growl. The light from under the door cut a stripe over her face, highlighting her frustrated frown and the shine of her glasses, but hiding her actual eyes.

Intellectually, Ryou understood the problem. Pieces of different machines weren’t made to work interchangeably, and that was far, far worse when it wasn’t even made by the same species. They had no tools, not even Ryou’s arm to forcibly weld things together in the hope that it would still work. 

All that was true, but Pidge’s frustrated dismissal still didn’t sit well with him. Ryou didn’t let go of tasks. Call it a family trait, but Ryou would ram his head against an issue over and over until it finally gave way. They’d only been awake for a few hours, and he wasn’t willing to call it impossible yet, even if it felt that way, even if it actually was.

But when tossed her blaster to the side, she jolted hard, even the small movement jarring her ankle. As she moved, the light shifted higher on her face, finally showing the top half of her face. Her bangs were matted down, and sweat shone on her forehead.

There was a very good reason for her attitude. 

“Well-”

Before Ryou could think of something helpful (or at least tension breaking) to say, the light in the room flickered. He hopped onto his feet instantly as a dark shape moved past the bottom of the door, bowed forward slightly to avoid bashing his head on the low ceiling. 

As soon as the doors started to part, Ryou dashed forward, arm up and ready to strike. He couldn’t light it, but he could do plenty of damage without the heat.

But the robbed silhouette in the doorway was ready for him. The doors parted farther, revealing a staff with a bulbous bottom end. The figure whirled the staff with practiced speed and smashed it down.

Ryou twisted, side stepping so it didn’t crack him directly on top of the head. Instead, it came down on his shoulder, a blow he could have shaken off and continued his assault.

Except where the staff touched, heat sparked and travelled through Ryou’s veins. It travelled through his body quickly, until all his muscles felt softened. 

As his foot came down on the next step, it utterly failed to keep his weight. When he tried to catch himself before he landed, his shoulders and left arm both failed to respond. Instead he hit down hard, only barely keeping from falling directly on his prosthesis.

“Hey!” Pidge shifted, then stilled. The lack of any other sound after meant she was probably holding back a cry of pain.

Ryou groaned, and used what little control he had left over his body to turn his head to the side to see Pidge. He met her gaze, silently begging her not to move and make her injury worse.

Pidge caught his eye and bit her bottom lip, rage bright in her eyes. She stayed tense, fingers wrapped around the half a blaster. This time, she held it the other way, jagged edges outward. If the captor got close enough, Ryou had no doubt she could do serious damage with it. 

For a moment, neither looked away. Pidge’s scowl deepened, and then she shifted her weight backward, sitting down properly again. It drew another wince, but at least she wasn’t about to try and move.

Satisfied, Ryou finally took a good look at their captor.

Most of the alien was covered in a tattered old cloak with the hood up. What was visible was covered in small, overlocking plates the color of sand. Each arm and foot ended with three fingers, each tipped with long, ivory claws. They stooped heavily, leaning on the staff when they weren’t using it as a weapon, but shuffled forward with surprising speed. Each step made their claws clatter loudly on the metal floor.

The alien looked between them both. Their face was utterly flat and ovular, like a deflated football. They had two large, perfectly circular black eyes on either edge of the oval, which didn’t blink. If it wasn’t for the slight shine, they might have been holes cut out of a strange mask.

After a moment of surveying them, the alien smacked their staff on the floor. “Re claniu.”

Ryou blinked, one of the few actions he could still control. In all their time in the universe, there were very few languages they’d encountered that couldn’t be translated. 

Luckily, their captor didn’t seem to be ordering them. Instead, three more of the aliens came down the hallway, all supporting a huge engine between them. The one who’d called them stepped aside, letting them into the room. They shuffled in and settled the engine right in front of the door, next to Ryou. Then they scampered out, chattering to themselves excitedly.

The first alien pointed to the engine with their staff, then smacked it on the ground again. “Re parreniu.”

Pidge looked at the engine, then glowered at the alien. Her arm tensed on the blaster, like she was considering taking her chances by throwing it. Instead, she gestured with the other hand. “What do you want?”

The alien opened its mouth further, expression rows and rows of tiny, serrated teeth. They swept their staff in an arc around the room, then pointed to the engine again. “Tanyn mu visprovoni. Re parreniu co dimu.”

Pidge’s eyes went wide as Ryou was still puzzling it out. “You- we can’t!” She said.

Their captor let out a pitched up noise of annoyance. Then they threateningly raised their staff, holding it above Ryou’s limp head. He tried to squirm away, but the effort got him nowhere, and made black spots appear in his vision.

“Wait. Wait.” Pidge held up both hands. When she pulled the aliens attention, she pointed to the engine. Then she made a gesture like she was screwing something onto the broken half a blaster. “Tools. We can’t fix it until we have tools.  _ Please.” _ She rotated her fist around, like she was wielding a wrech.

The alien just watched Pidge. The flat face and dark eyes gave away nothing. Ryou couldn’t even hold his breath as he waited to see if they’d strike out at Pidge next.

Finally, they turned away. “Re dezatteniu tanyn. Na vah clava tilouviu.”

With that, the doors closed.

“No!” Pidge called. This time she did throw the blaster. It hit the door and clattered to the floor at the base of the engine. “Tools, you idiot!”

Ryou tried to move again, but with no success. His whole body still felt hot, like he was a melted piece of wax. The heat might have started to fade, but it also might have been wishful thinking. Or he was just getting used to it.

So all he could do was lay still and watch Pidge.

Looking over at him, she bit her bottom lip. The rage faded, not fully gone but simmering below. Instead, Pidge looked him over, especially the shoulder where he’d been hit. “Can you hear me?”

Ryou blinked rapidly.

“Okay, there’s that. Um, are you hurt? One blink for yes, two for no.”

Two long blinks. Ryou concentrated, trying to force out some kind of noise. But it was far beyond his current abilities. He simply couldn’t tense his throat or change his breathing.

Pidge took a deep breath, then let it go in a huff that ruffled her damp bangs. “Okay. Okay. Well, that can’t be permanent, right? They want us to fix this stupid thing, and for that you need, like, arms.” She scowled at the engine. “Not that we can do anything now. We can hit the stupid engine with pieces of metal like cave men. I’m sure that’ll do it.”

As she talked, Pidge started to pick up the tech around her and rearrange them. Their focus had been on weapons, or else anything they could use to break through the door. In theory, if they could break or melt the lock, they could shove the doors open and at least roam around - for all the good that did them with Pidge’s ankle.

Now, their priorities might have shifted. 

Pidge’s shoulders curved in as she worked. The effect shrank her, or at least countered the usual effect of her forceful personality. When they both stood, Pidge reached the center of Ryou’s chest.

None of that made her delicate or less capable. But the reminder made Ryou’s chest ache anew. He couldn’t even hug her or offer a shoulder squeeze right now. He just had to watch her handle the weight of this reality. One where she was trapped, forced into labor for reasons she didn’t understand, without the tools to succeed.

It made Ryou’s heart pump ice water, even without the memory of Matt looking up at Shiro, terrified and in pain.

No one should have to understand this pain. Not Shiro, not himself, not their team.

“Well, at least we know they need us for something,” Pidge continued. She didn’t look up again, keeping her eyes firmly on her busy work. “It explains how we went from examining that satelite to this. They must have been watching while we worked on it. Maybe they snuck up on us and did that thing with the staff, or something similar. You think we’re still on Batinu? I haven’t felt any motion, so hopefully we’re not on a ship.”

Slowly, the heat started to fade, starting at the shoulder where Ryou had been hit. He twitched his fingers, relief trickling in along with the aching sadness.

“Who knows how broken that engine is, too. It kind of looks Galra, but Frankenstein Galra. Some of the parts are definitely wrong. Did it ever work in the first place? Or did they just jam parts in that kind of looked similar and get mad when it didn’t work? I don’t know how smart they can be if they think we don’t need tools to build an entire stupid engine.”

Slowly, quietly, Ryou pushed himself back onto his knees. He wobbled for a minute, blinking as he readjusted. Then he shuffled forward on his knees once again. 

Pidge continued on, mouth running like she wasn’t thinking about the words at all. “They better not have touched Green. Then again, if we were out, the shields should have gone up, and I doubt they have any way to move a lion anyway. So that’s good. I mean, it’s bad that Green’s just sitting out there. It was raining, too. That sucks, thinking about it. Left out all alone in the rain on an alien planet. Hopefully everyone else already got her. It’s been a few hours and who knows how long we were asl-”

Ryou’s knee hit a ball bearing, which rolled noisily along the metal floor, impacting a piston across the room. Pidge’s head snapped up, lips still formed around her last syllable, and stared at him.

Without pausing, Ryou moved to her side and pulled her into a gentle hug, carefully not to shift her leg. “Hey. We’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Pidge replied, voice hardening. It took on a flip edge, as if Ryou were crazy for doubting her. But she didn’t move from his embrace.

“You’re probably right, and we’re still on the planet. If not, we can’t have gone that far, not without a teleduv or a full Galra style wormhole. They want something, and it’ll take a while, so we have plenty of time.”

Pidge nodded, and this time she didn’t speak. 

Holding on tighter, Ryou pressed her face into her hair, not caring in the least that it was damp from sweat. “We can stall until help comes, or we can figure out something. Because you’re  _ brilliant. _ And I’m pretty good at following instructions, you know. Between us, we’ll figure something out. Even if it’s hard right now, and I know your leg hurts and that makes it even harder. If they want this fixed, they need to give us tools. And the second they do, we can keep pretending to work while we built something that’ll make them regret breathing in our direction. Or we’ll just wait them out until the lions blast their dumb heads offf. Okay?”

“Okay,” Pidge replied. The bravado faded as her arms came up and wrapped tightly around him. She turned her head so she could hide her face in his armor.

Ryou held on, giving her a moment. She wasn’t shaking, and he didn’t think she was crying. They just both needed to brace themselves.

Pidge would be okay. She was smart and resilient, and she’d overcome so much worse than this.

Ryou just wished she hadn’t  _ had _ to.

The light flickered again. Both of them burst apart, fast enough that Pidge met out a tiny grunt of pain behind her teeth.

One of the aliens entered again - maybe the same as before, maybe not. They held a staff again, the bulbous end pointed at both of them with clear, threatening intent.

Under their other arm was a lumpy bundle wrapped in cloth.

“Re vih clavit hakwhe. Urbhoniu vih ko re vih gimoniu tch.” With that, the alien threw the bundle in. It clattered loudly, the sound of metal on metal only barely damped by the fabric. They stayed still for another moment, staff still out, before backing up and turning away.

The door closed.

Ryou and Pidge shared a look. Then he scrambled forward, yanking away the cloth. Dozens of unorganized objects fell out. Most of them were unfamiliar, but at least a couple Ryou knew from working on Galra technology. They were definitely tools, if a hodge podge assortment.

Picking up one of the ones he didn’t recognize, Ryou held it up to the light. It had a long shaft, with a twisty end like a screw. The tip glowed a faint yellow. When he ran a finger along the side until he found a button. When pressed, the tip burst into a tiny, controlled flame, glowing with heat.

Ryou grinned and arched his brows at Pidge. “Think you can do something with this?”

Pidge’s eyes reflected back the fire. She clenched her fists at her side, then held them out. The tension unwound in her shoulders, replaced with a jagged sort of humor. “Yeah. I can think of one or two things.”

***

Over the last several months, Ryou had learned a lot about alien technology. He was admittedly a fast learner, and he was serious about creating a new place for himself on the team. There was always need for another set of hands, if only for the constant repairs and upkeep that the Castle of Lion required. He’d learned the ins and outs of the Lions, gotten comfortable with dozens of systems from life support to communications, worked extensively with hover technology, developed new weapons when bayards weren’t available.

All of that knowledge seemed to vanish when it came to this engine. As predicted, it was a complete mess. Many sections looked like whoever had done the wielding had never tried the skill before, and the inside was an even worse patchwork monster than the outside. The base was  _ probably _ Galra, and there were a couple pieces that might have been very ancient Olkarian. Other than that, Ryou couldn’t identify what he was looking at, much less decide how to fix it.

Pidge didn’t have that problem.

“Ah,” she’d said, with an air of quiet discovery. And then, with only a few minutes of looking, she got to work.

Ryou sat, hands in his lap. He gripped the welding torch tightly, simply watching her work. He didn’t know what to do and how to help, so instead he could only be awed.

It wasn’t like Ryou didn’t know what a genius Pidge was. He worked with her every day, and her flashes of brilliance had saved all their lives dozens of times. But this was such a stark example of the difference between them. 

Like with the Olkari headbands, Pidge had the frankly uncanny ability to apply both her and knowledge of machinery and the completely foreign mentality of aliens. 

Finally, Ryou cleared his throat. “Uh, anything you could use a second pair of hands on?”

Pidge paused, then picked her head up. One hand idly rubbed up and down her thigh, travelling up to where her foot was once again elevated on some of their scrap. She looked between the engine and Ryou, as if surprised he hadn’t already joined her.

Ryou’s stomach rolled. Awed as he was at her genius, he didn’t enjoy needing to be hand-held through a process. But he could handle that embarrassment. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been painstakingly tutored in technology already. His prefered mentor was just usually Hunk.

“Oh, right.” Pidge pulled one hand out of the engine and wiped the sweat off her brow, leaving a smear of dark blue behind. “Uh, not with this bit, exactly. But the piston rings on the other side have probably been grinding and moving poorly, from the looks of them. Can you work on them?”

Knee-walking his way over, Ryou nodded. “Yeah, definitely.” Piston rings, piston rings. He saw... lots of things. None of which had the rods and circular pieces he expected. “Um.”

Pidge craned her head over the top of the engine. “Does it look that bad?”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Right. Yeah.” Pidge ducked back down, and Ryou pushed away the fear that she was hiding her disappointment in him. “The thing with the glowing white circles. Looks like it uses magnets instead of actual rods.”

With that description, Ryou was finally able to find an indentation of a circle. When he pressed on the inner ring with the white glowing spot, it moved, and several pieces of the engine moved as well. But like Pidge had said, it wasn’t smooth. A closer look, with the torch for light, showed that the edges of the circle were jagged and grinding.

That, Ryou could handle. After a few tries, he found what would at least serve as a handheld sander and got to work.

For the next several hours, that was how they operated. Pidge would point out an area that needed work, and Ryou would stumble his way through it. Slowly, he started to see what Pidge had - the connections and design, the overall flow and function, and thus where it was failing. He’d probably never have her immediate ability to intuit a machine, but at least he felt functional.

In the meantime, they planned.

“A couple of little blasters aren’t going to be enough. Not when you have to physically carry me.” Pidge put aside what was essentially a wrench. She draped one arm over the top of the engine and rested her chin on that.

Ryou pressed his lips together, but didn’t argue the point. “Pity we didn’t find any hover tech in here. I don’t know if we could jerry rig something up without an Altean-level power source.”

“You know, not all problems can be fixed with hovering.”

“Have you  _ tried?” _

Pidge grinned, blinking slowly. Even in the dim lighting, she was noticeably pale. Just getting her closer to the engine had been a trial, and Ryou doubted the pain had gotten any better. “Alright, but it’s out in this case. And I’m going to be honest, if you’re carting me around, I’m not going to be able to focus well enough to shoot and cover you. We need a better option.”

Ryou pulled his hands free of the engine and wiped them clean. Besides what passed for oil in the thing, it was also full of dust and, worse, metal shavings. “Do you think you could access a computer with some of the circuit boards?”

“Maybe, with my armor. Depends on what connections we have, and if we can even get one of the boards to work.” Pidge closed her eyes, brows furrowing as she concentrated. “It would also depend on where we can connect to their computers. But we could also tap into their environmental systems. We’d control the light and the temperature. Gravity too, if we’re off world. Then I really could float.”

“What’d I’d say about hovering?” Ryou managed a smile, even though PIdge’s eyes were still closed. She was slumped forward, hair a tangled mess. What little of her face was visible was drawn and dirty.

“Hah.” 

Ryou waited a moment, then took a deep breath. “For now, I think the best we can do is keep working on this and stall. Sooner or later everyone else will find us. You found me and Keith when those bounty hunters nabbed us, and they were probably way smarter. They could at least keep their ship functional.”

Snorting, Pidge cracked open one eye. “Or we could break this engine apart from the inside. Bet I could make it explode.”

As satisfying as it would be, the consequences would be bad. Even if annoying their captors would soothe their pride, they were completely at the mercy of these aliens. Ryou had no desire to see Pidge hurt worse than she already was, nor did he want any injuries himself. They were already going to be in trouble if they ever had to run.

“All we need to do now is show progress. Explosions can come later.” Ryou bit his bottom lip. “Speaking of, we’ve gotten more than enough done, and we don’t want to give them too much too fast. Your ankle has a better chance of healing if you get some sleep.”

Pidge finally picked her head up, staring at him incredulously. “You want me to sleep. Here? Now?” She gestured wildly around them room.

“Actually, yeah.” Ryou leaned against the engine, crossing his arms. “We don’t know how long it’ll take for a rescue. What we need is to be prepared. And that works better if you rest. If it’s two more days, do you really want to be sleep deprived?”

Lips narrowed into a thin line, Pidge glared at him. “What about you? Shouldn’t you sleep too?”

“I don’t have a swollen ankle that needs to go down.” Ryou pointed at her leg with his screwdriver.

PIdge didn’t so much as blink and continued to scowl.

Rubbing his forehead, Ryou pushed his bangs back out of his face. “Please. Trust me on this. My limits are a little different from yours. We both have skills, and this is mine. I’ll sleep when you’ve rested.”

The open plea must have cracked through something, because Pidge’s face slowly fell. “You’ll be okay alone?”

“Who’s alone? I’ve got Doc Brown with me.” Ryou held up the sentry head and gave him a jiggle. “Good conversationalist. He appreciates my humor.”

That only drew out the barest of smiles. Pidge stared at him, utterly silent. Ryou just smiled back, keeping his posture encouraging.

“Okay,” Pidge finally said, barely over a whisper. Her shoulders slumped, and the full extent of how tired she must be was suddenly visible. Slowly, and with painful care, she laid herself down, using her arm as a pillow. It couldn’t be comfortable, between the hard ground and plating under her head. But it was more restful than working.

Ryou set Doc Brown down with care, repositioning a fallen screw. Then he focused back on the engine, determined to get more done without Pidge babysitting him.

Before he could get started, Pidge spoke again. “I forget sometimes.”

“That you need sleep?” Ryou peered around the side of the engine, brows up. “Trust me, I know.”

Nose crinkled, Pidge scoffed. “Not that. About you. Your skills. What you remember. About the arena.”

Oh. Ryou’s stomach dropped. He ducked away again so she couldn’t see his face anymore. “Neither of us really talk about it. It’s probably slips everyone’s minds.”

“I remember for Shiro.”

Ryou slammed his eyes shut, repressing a flinch. She probably couldn’t see, but just in case. “Oh.”

Pidge sighed hard. “I’m not saying this right. I forget you remember it, because I forget how it all started. With you being a clone. You joke about it, but it’s like... it doesn’t feel like that anymore. It’s more like we found Shiro’s twin brother in space, and he just knows us really well. The same way with Matt. I forget you remember because I forget you were him. It feels like you’ve always been Ryou.”

Throat tight, Ryou leaned his forehead against the engine. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Oh,” he repeated, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I- I don’t. Forget. Ever.”

“Makes sense. Your memories are Shiro’s. I don’t mean to forget either. Sorry.” There was a shifting sound, like Pidge was trying to get comfortable, but it suddenly stopped. She’d probably moved her foot. “I was just confused by what skills you meant for a second. That’s all.”

Pressing his eyes to his arm, Ryou swallowed hard. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. It’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s not at all. I think it’s good. I like you as Ryou.”

Ryou bit his bottom lip against a swell of emotion. There was pride and happiness in there, but also a confused frustration. He reminded people all the time. He wore it like a badge of honor. It felt  _ dangerous _ to let everyone else forget, as if they’d remember and suddenly be afraid all over again.

While he was still processing, Pidge’s breathing evened out into a light snore.

It took several minutes after that for Ryou to finally raise his head. He smiled at his lap, a little watery. “Thank you,” he whispered.

There was no response but more breathing. But that was the only thing Ryou needed to hear.

***

The ‘night’ was long and quiet. Ryou did his best to keep down the noise from working. It helped that, without Pidge’s guidance, he spent long periods of time just figuring out what parts he was looking at, and then struggling to determine if there was a problem. Technically, he was supposed to be stalling rather than working, but it was something to keep his mind occupied. 

Besides, he’d never been one to leave a puzzle unfinished. Not as Ryou, and not before.

The whole time, he kept an ear out for Pidge. It was hard not to, in their small, dark room. Her sleep was restless, when she even managed to drift off. More than once, she woke with a start when she moved her ankle in her sleep. 

Each time, Ryou kept his head down, pretending not to notice. Unless she called for him, he wanted to give her the dignity of privacy. After a few minutes, she always settled back down, and usually dropped off quickly again. It was clear Pidge was exhausted and her injury was making it worse.

At some point, they were going to have to worry about an infection. Or, if it took long enough, Pidge’s ankle might begin to heal. What little support they could give her leg wouldn’t save the bone from knitting together poorly. The only option might be to rebreak her ankle before going into the pod.

There was nothing either of them could do about that now except stress. So Ryou worked. The light under the door never changed, but hours must have passed.

Finally, Pidge gave a short, frustrated grunt. She slowly pushed herself up, clearly making an effort to keep her leg still as she did so. Blinking rapidly, she squinted at Ryou. There were lines on her face from laying on her armor, and her hair was even more of a mess than before. But her eyes looked a little more clear, and he hoped the sleepy curve to her shoulders would ease as she woke more.

“Okay, done with sleeping. It’s dumb, who needs it?” Pidge shoved her hair impatiently out of her face.

Ryou gave her a bland smile. “Human beings, typically.”

“How unfortunate for them.” Rolling her shoulders until they cracked, Pidge peered around the side of the engine. “How much did you get done?”

“Not much,” Ryou said, which was objectively true. “Mostly cleaned stuff up. The ignition system is still a mess, but at least it doesn’t look half full with hardened gunk anymore.”

Pidge grunted her understanding. Slowly, carefully, she went through the drawn-out process of moving her ankle without hurting herself. She gingerly lifted her leg at the knee and bent it a quarter of an inch at a time, until she could sit up more comfortably.

That settled, Pidge started to look over the work Ryou had gotten done. “Alright. Honestly, this thing’s probably close to finished. I’m going to make myself look busy, and now it’s your turn to sleep.”

Ryou didn’t bother to hide his grimace. “I’m alright for a bit. I was going to-”

Pidge peered over the top of the engine, only her messy curls and narrowed eyes visible. “We had a deal.”

“So we did,” Ryou said, stilling like sighted prey. “I, uh... I guess I’ll give it a couple of hours, and then we’ll-”

He cut off as a shadow moved across the bottom of the door.

Shit. 

The door opened. Once again, the alien stood in front of them, staff pointed outward in a now familiar threat.

“Na tulva eten urbhonu.” They snapped. Still pointing the staff between them both, they used their other long clawed hand to gesture in three more beings.

They were going to take the engine away again.

“Wait-” Pidge started.

“No!” Ryou draped himself over the engine completely, which stopped the three approaching. He looked to the original’s blank, unchanging face, his hands up placatingly. “It’s not finished. It was very broken and we’re still working. Please. We need more time.”

The flat, mask-like face stared back at him.

Then, just as startlingly quick as before, the staff smashed into the side of Ryou’s head. This time, the short, non-stunning side.

Ryou’s grip on the engine failed. He was knocked off hard, impacting the metal floor and rolling into one of the piles of tools. Scrap metal scratched at the exposed back of his neck as he rolled to a stop, and then pushed himself on his arms. 

Meanwhile, the original alien moved toward Ryou, face still unreadable, but the bulbous end of the staff out. “Ri byishniu. Saraniu vih tch.”

Frustration took Ryou by the throat, squeezing to kill what little patience he had left. He pushed himself to as much of his full height as he could and bared his teeth right back. “I’m trying to help you, you idiot.”

The alien lifted the staff, aiming once again for the already aching side of Ryou’s head.

Only for an unattached sentry head to come sailing through the air, cracking on the alien’s shoulder. They stumbled, using the staff as a crutch to stay upright. Then, slowly, they turned around.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at the alien, her arm still extended from throwing Doc Brown. In her other hand, she held a glowing sledgehammer.

“Hey, dumbass. It’s broken.”

With that, she brought down the hammer, which crumpled the metal of the engine like it was made of paper.

One of the other aliens let out a high pitched yelp, like a goat bleating. They reached out and grabbed Pidge’s arm, and tried to pull away the hammer. She clung on stubbornly, glaring right back. The other two grabbed the engine and pulled it away, clearly struggling with the weight. It scraped horrifically against the metal floor, moving inch by slow inch.

The staffed alien turned around, striding up to Pidge. They stood over her, a small mountain next to her struggles. She tried to squirm away, but couldn’t with the other alien holding on.

“Dieode tach. Valytroniu roktcven hakwhe, tillit romon.”

With that, they lifted one huge, clawed foot, and brought it right down on Pidge’s broken ankle.

The noise Pidge made started as a scream. It pierced Ryou through the chest, pooling blood in his stomach. Then it faded into a raspy, choked breath. What little color she had faded as her struggles stilled.

Every instinct in Ryou screamed to run to her side.

Instead, he bent down and picked up the corkscrew topped tool.

Pidge coughed wetly and shook her head. Her eyes wouldn’t focus, her gaze wild from the pain. A tiny whine escaped her as she yanked on the arm holding the hammer. The other alien held on too tightly. Pidge tried to kick up, but the movement caused another of those sick, animal cries of pain.

The alien knelt down, the plated skin scraping like rock on the metal floor. They leaned their blank, mask-like face into Pidge’s space, showing those rows and rows of jagged little teeth. “Kitak voh maggdominu hih visprovoni, na vah maggdommva ri. Diehoniu?”

Slowly, dazedly, Ryou pressed the button on the welder. The flame came on, bright enough to catch the attention of Pidge and the alien holding her. Both their faces turned toward him.

As blank faced as the aliens, Ryou turned the flame onto his own metal arm, on the side with the round device. He didn’t even bother trying to break the disc. Instead, he cut around that portion of his arm, until the whole chunk fell to the ground with a clatter. The welder fell after, still burning against the ground.

Without feeling pain, or horror, or anything but dark determination, Ryou held up his arm. It lit up Altean blue.

The alien with the staff took a step back and whirled his weapon around to strike.

Ryou’s hand cut through the shaft like it was mist.

There was still no emotion on the alien’s face. But Ryou knew other ways to read alien body language. He knew the stumbling steps backward, the defensive way the arms kept up, the curl to their spine.

This alien was afraid of him.

Good.

Ryou attacked.

***

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

Ryou carefully set Pidge down outside the squat, metal complex they’d just escaped from. With both their bayards and helmets retrieved, it had been easy enough to send a distress signal/ Their rescue should be coming soon. If there were any more of the aliens inside... well, they were wise enough to stay out of Ryou’s way.

Considering he was liberally splattered with dark blue blood, that would make sense.

“We weren’t supposed to get kidnapped and made to work on a broken engine?” Ryou asked. He tried to rearrange her legs as carefully as he could, but she waved him away until he subsided. Instead, he settled in next to her. “No kidding.”

Pidge huffed and crossed her arms over her stomach. Her eyes wouldn’t stay on him for long. She glanced over, meeting his gaze, only to turn away. “I meant that last part. With you doing... that.”

“Ah.” Ryou rested his head against the side of the building, his eyes up on the sky. Dark clouds rolled by quickly, churning and rolling like an angry ocean. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Sorry?” Pidge peered up at him, brow furrowed. “Why are you sorry? I’m sorry.”

Ryou paused, his breath stilling in his chest. Then he frowned down at her, heart sinking. “Are you apologizing for having your leg broken  _ twice?” _

“No, I-” Pidge winced, shrinking under his intense stare. “No, I mean that you had to do that. Fight them off. And I couldn’t even shake off one of them.”

Ryou continued to stare, an icy chill climbing up his throat like the contents of his stomach had turned to slush. “Pidge, no. You were injured. You were  _ tortured. _ And even if you weren’t, doing what I did isn’t...” He trailed off, grasping at the air like he could grab the words he needed. “I don’t ever want you to have to fight like I did.”

“I’m not someone to rescue!” Pidge pushed herself away from the wall, then winced and stilled. Instead, she grabbed a rock off the ground and lobbed it hard. It bounced away, clattering as it travelled across the barrel ground. “I’m not someone you need to save or coddle. Not someone you need to rip yourself apart because I can’t handle my job.”

Throat tight, Ryou put his hand on Pidge’s cheek. He nudged until she looked at his face, and saw the pain there. “I’m not coddling you. Pidge, you were  _ tortured. _ That’s not a set-back on a project. They were hurting you. I told you before, we have different skills. I would have had no idea how to fix that engine and keep them from turning on me. And this is what I know how to do. I don’t  _ want _ you to learn how to fight like I did. Never.”

Pidge’s breath hitched. She finally met his eyes without looking away. Every line on her face spoke of pain and exhaustion, like the last day had carved something out of her. “You shouldn’t have to either. You hurt yourself to defend me.”

“It doesn’t hurt right now.”

“That’s worse!” Pidge pushed his hand away, desperation bleeding into her face. “Ryou, that’s even worse! That means something’s damaged.”

Ryou shrugged, unconcerned. They could fix it once everyone showed up, and no pain meant it couldn’t stop him. 

But that only made Pidge’s expression darken, so he sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to. No one should have to. But even if you can forget where I came from, I can’t. That’s part of me, no matter how different I become. So let me protect you. Let me take this, because it can’t hurt me more. I wish you didn’t even have to  _ see _ that. You don’t need saving, but if I can keep you from knowing what I felt in that room? I’ll cut off more than a little chunk of a prosthesis.”

Gritting her teeth, Pidge continued to meet his earnest stare. Her eyes flickered, like she was tempted to look away, but she never did. “Your place on the team isn’t to take hits for other people.”

“Kinda is. Yellow Paladin, remember?” Ryou tried to smile, but Pidge continued to stare. “I know. That’s now how I think about it. Just in this case, okay? Please, Pidge. Let’s just get you healed. You were never a burden to me, or a delicate flower to protect. I promise.”

Slowly, Pidge closed her eyes. She slumped to the side, pressing her cheek against Ryou’s arm. “Okay. I still don’t like it. Don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try not to.” Ryou leaned back into the pressure, letting his eyes turn back to the sky.

The silence stretched between them. It wasn’t comfortable, not at all, but at least it lacked some of the edge of before.

Then Ryou jolted. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Pidge sat up straight, tense enough to bristle. “What’s wrong? Are there more?”

“We forgot Doc Brown.”

Pidge’s mouth fell open. Then she reeled back and punched him in the arm. “Ryou!”

Taking the hit with a smile, Ryou rested a hand on his chest like an insulted grandmother. “We can’t leave behind such an important member of the team.”

Snorting, Pidge rolled her eyes. “Doc Brown will just take the place over. He’s fine.”

“Mm, guess you’re right.”

Finally, Pidge cracked a smile. It was tiny and fragile, even reluctant, but it was there. She slumped against him again, heavier than before.

They sat like that for several long moments. Then, there was a small blue flash in the sky, and a dark dot broke through the clouds above.

“Taxi’s here.” Ryou turned, hooking his arms under Pidge’s back and knees again. He slowly lifted her, careful to jar her leg as little as possible. “You okay?”

“No.” Pidge met his eyes directly, chin held high. “Are you?”

Ryou managed a wane smile back. “No. Ready to go heal?”

“That, we can do.”


	4. Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, guess who forgot what day she updates?
> 
> Me, it's me

Ryou let out a slow whistle as he slowly tracked his eyes upward. “Alright,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “That’s pretty cool.”

What they’d seen of this planet already was gorgeous. Pidge had compared it to the pacific northwest, which meant nothing to Ryou anymore. Even so, he appreciated the huge, thick trees that proudly stood well over a hundred feet in the air. The trunks, pure black and the texture of velvet, were wide enough that the entire team could hold hands around one and still not join up. Bright blue and purple moss wove up the sides, like veins of precious jewels in the living monuments.

Those had been impressive, as had the huge, churning river of silver water they’d followed to get here. But what really took Ryou’s breath away was the mountain.

It stretched far above even the tallest of the trees, punching through the clouds above and disappearing completely from view. But what was visible was entirely made of rock that looked like someone had taken a painter’s palette and let the colors drip off. Different hues curled and spilled their way along the side, some mixing and some staying pure. The effect caused abstract shapes that flowed and changed like water.

Ryou wasn’t surprised that such a unique and beautiful place had become so sacred to the locals. Even just looking for a minute, his mind already wanted to find shapes in the colors, like watching clouds shift.

“It’s amazing,” Shiro agreed softly. His expression and postured melted, relaxing from the Black Paladin into a more normal stance.

Ryou watched Shiro from the corner of his eye, biting back a smile. It was rare for Shiro to let down his guard even this much on a mission. Not only was he worried for the team, but he felt he had to put on airs, and be the model of leadership that everyone in the universe must need.

Then again, today Shiro wasn’t the leader. For the first time since he’d joined the Blade of Marmora, Keith was.

Thus, why Ryou and Shiro were here, rather than back on the city with the rest of the team. They’d go get the ceremonial sword needed to finish negotiations. Everyone else waited with the lions, in the sadly likely chance the local Galra warlord decided to strike.

With their foreknowledge of the sword’s defenses, this shouldn’t be a difficult task for Shiro and Ryou. And a more diplomatic mission, with the later possibility of actual action, made this a challenge for Keith, but not such an immediate, life-or-death risk. An ideal starting ground to build leaderly confidence.

And getting Shiro out of the city eliminated the possibility of backseat leadership, and made Keith less likely to just defer to what he thought Shiro wanted. Thus, why Ryou had volunteered them for this little excursion. Likely, Shiro knew it too, since he hadn’t objected.

If it gave them the opportunity for some sightseeing, Ryou was all for it.

“Alright,” Ryou said, pulling up his map and projecting it in front of him with his armor. He stepped forward, gesturing toward the mountain like a tour guide. “Step this way for the cave of wonders. Time to go pillaging.”

“It’s not pillaging if you have permission,” Shiro pointed out flatly. He followed along, ducking backward to avoid Ryou’s waving arm.

“It can be pillaging in my  _ heart.” _

Shiro rolled his eyes and stalked ahead, like he was going to leave Ryou behind purely for being a smartass. “Why do you  _ want _ it to be pillaging?”

Ryou shrugged, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “Because it’ll bother you.”

Shiro glared back over and picked up his pace, until Ryou had to jog to keep up. “It should bother you too! Pillaging is a war crime. I try to avoid those.”

“Eh, laws don’t apply in space.”

Slowing his pace, Shiro let Ryou catch up. He folded his arms behind him, a comfortable posture that still echoed parade rest. “Well, technically, there’s Law of the Sea.”

“Excuse you, Law of the Sea applies to international waters, not hundreds of thousands of light years away.” Ryou waited for Shiro to open his mouth, then pointed in his face. “Do not. We are not in any Earth jurisdiction and you know it.”

A smile curved at the edges of Shiro’s lips. He didn’t turn his face toward Ryou, just watched from the corners of his eyes. “Technically, the 2087 treaties never actually closed that loophole.”

“Loopholes made by  _ assholes _ who wanted to monopolize asteroid mining! That’s such a 21st century argument. Who even are you, right now?”

Finally, Shiro broke into laughter. “After all that time you’ve spent getting under my skin, it’s only fair I get my own back.”

Ryou stuck out his bottom lip, knowing damn well pouting made him (and Shiro) look like a four year old. “That’s not fair. Only I’m allowed to do that.”

“Have fun?”

“Yes!”

Shiro snorted, his grin not fading in the slightest. “Well, tough luck. Try and stop me.” He turned away, then paused and shielded his eyes with his hand. “Is that the entrance, or just a shadow?”

Pushing up onto his tiptoes, Ryou squinted ahead of them. There was a dark patch in the rock ahead, and no matter how he strained his eyes, he couldn’t pick out colors. “I think that’s it. Let’s go kick some ass and take some swords.”

The entrance must have originally been a natural cave, or else someone had gone through a lot of effort to fake the effect. It wasn’t until they approached that Ryou could see how perfectly circular the tunnel became farther inside.

As they stepped in, Shiro raised his arm and pressed the side. A beam of light came out of the armor, lighting the walls. The color effect continued on the inside, curving around them until the inky darkness further in faded it from view.

About ten feet in, there was a small bobble, just where the circle started to curve back up. “One sec,” Ryou said. He stepped closer, squinting at the device, but in the shade it was harder to make out detail. “Can you bring that light over here?”

Shiro stepped over, shining the light over Ryou’s shoulder. He hummed thoughtfully, then pointed the light further down again, this time aimed up. Farther in, there was another of baubles, and a round shape that might have been another past that. “Ah, lanterns?”

“Might be, but I won’t know unless you bring back my light.”

Shiro pointed the flashlight in his face, brow arched. “Like this?”

Ryou stared back, then opened his mouth wide. “Yeah, just like that,” he said, carefully pronouncing the words with limited lip and tongue movement. “You think I have tonsils?”

Nose crinkled, which warped the scar, Shiro re-aimed the flashlight at the wall. “Nevermind.”

Heh. Ryou grinned and focused again. Just under what served as the bulb, there was a hatch. It wouldn’t come up, but he dug out his screwdriver from the bag on his hip. Rather than unscrew anything, he just shoved it under the hatch and yanked up. The metal scraped, deeply rusted, but finally came up. Under was a switch, which Ryou flipped.

A small, flickering light grew in the bulb. It strengthened until it was about as powerful as Shiro’s flashlight. Once it was done, the next one down the hallway started to light up, and the one after that. Within a minute, there was a long line of glowing dots down the tunnel, visible until the downward angle hid them from view.

“That’ll do it.” Ryou closed the hatch back up, nodding with satisfaction.

Shiro hummed his agreement and dropped his arm. “Nicely done.” He briefly squeezed Ryou on the shoulder as he continued on. “No one said how long this went on, did they?”

“No, and it’s a pretty big mountain. We might be in for a trek. It’s supposed to be a trial, right? Prove your worth to stand at the negotiating table, blah blah. Wouldn’t be a good one if you could walk in and out in an hour.” Ryou followed after Shiro, his eyes on the wall rather than farther down the tunnel. He traced one finger along a line of red, dipping up and down as long as the trail lasted. When the red ended, he moved onto a streak of blue.

“I suppose.” Shiro’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his steps quickened slightly. The earlier ease began to drain away. 

Ryou finally pulled his eyes away from the wall, though he didn’t move his hand away. “Hey,” he said, voice softening. He waited until Shiro caught his eye to continue. “They’re okay. We’ll hear if something more serious happens. Voltron and the Castle can handle that Galra’s whole fleet if they need to.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. Then he looked back down the tunnel and let out a dark little bark of laughter. “It’s been a while since you’ve done that.”

“Done what?”

“Known what I was thinking.”

Had it been? Ryou’s brow furrowed as he thought back over the past few weeks. There had been little moments, like knowing Shiro had a nightmare he was trying to hide, but otherwise he hadn’t had much reason to call him out. “I guess so. Haven’t lost my touch, though.”

Shiro nodded, eyes still locked ahead. His pace slowed back down to normal, but he stayed quiet, lost in his own thoughts.

It was Ryou’s job to continue to prod him and keep him from spiraling. But honestly, as long as Shiro wasn’t about to power walk his way into an anxiety attack, Ryou was willing to let him handle it himself.

Instead, his thoughts drifted to Pidge, and the conversation they’d had a few weeks ago. She’d admitted she forgot where he came from, sometimes.

Ryou couldn’t understand that. He couldn’t comprehend ever forgetting who had made him and why. It felt dangerous. Already, Haggar had found another method to turn him against the team. His own hands had strangled Shiro, and he’d felt nothing about it until after.

On the other hand, it was a compliment. He wasn’t just Shiro 2.0. He was  _ Ryou, _ fully connected to them in his own way. Pidge, at least, fully saw him as himself.

Even that hurt, though. Ryou had made his own relationships with the team, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten the times before. They were Shiro’s memories, Shiro’s emotions, but Ryou still felt them. He still loved them for those moments, just as much as the times after. He understood why Pidge divorced him from that in her mind, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the loss.

How did everyone else feel? Did the rest of them see Ryou as someone who they’d picked up one day and who had been folded into the team, nothing more complicated than that? Or did they see the full of the situation, the complexity, the messy parts? 

Did Ryou want them to?

While his mind was occupied, Ryou’s foot caught a stray rock. It flew ahead of them, knocking into the tunnel wall before skittering further down the tunnel.

The noise startled Ryou out of his thoughts. He blinked, focusing on the world around him again. He’d been lost in his own mind while they were walking toward the sword’s defenses. Shit.

“You okay?”

Ryou snapped his head over to frown at Shiro. “Huh?”

“You’ve been quiet,” Shiro explained. “Usually you would have filled the silence by now. Are you alright?”

“I’m capable of being quiet for five minutes, you know,” Ryou said, one brow arched. He crossed his arms, trying not to look put out and not defensive.

Shiro’s frown deepened, which meant he probably failed. “You are,” he agreed, his voice softening. No longer teasing. Just  _ concerned. _

That was not how this was supposed to go.

“I’m good,” Ryou continued, now far too late. So instead he shrugged elaborately. “Distracted by the pretty colors, mostly. And I got to thinking about if the Galra use something like the Law of the Sea, and then I started thinking about what Galra court of law would look like at all. They probably brawl over it, right? Victory or death, Veprit Sa, all that?”

Shiro’s gaze didn’t waver. He reached out and put his hand on Ryou’s shoulder, stopping him and turning him around. “Hey,” he said, still in that terrible, gentle voice. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Ryou wanted to put his hand over Shiro’s mouth and stop the questions, stop that look. He didn’t want to have to drag this up, didn’t want to speak to the doubts he still had about himself. As if his worries seeing the light of day would make them suddenly real.

Hadn’t Keith called him honest?

Ha.

“I do,” Ryou replied, because he couldn’t say anything else in the face of Shiro’s intense stare. “I’m fine. Really, I am. I just got lost in thought.”

Shiro’s expression didn’t flicker. He stared at Ryou, eyes bright, hand heavy on his shoulder.

Then, finally, he sighed. “Okay. Just... this isn’t a one way street. You know that, right? You always want me to tell you when things are bothering me. Hell, you hound me until I talk. I’m not as good at that with you, but..” He trailed off, eyes falling down to their feet. “I wish I was.”

Ryou’s heart clenched. Reaching up, he put his hand over Shiro’s and squeezed. “You do right by me, okay? I’m good. Don’t worry about this. You have the rest of the universe to take care of.”

Shiro’s expression fell farther. “You’re part of that universe too, Ryou.”

“Well, yeah, I live there, but-” Ryou trailed off as movement caught his eye. 

Just past Shiro’s shoulder, barely visible, a humanoid form was coming out of the colored rock It was taller than both of them, and held a scimitar in one huge hand. The whole thing seemed to be made of the same stone as the mountain, except for the blade which had a wet sheen overtop.

“Shiro!”

Before Shiro could even turn around, the being raised the sword and cut across Shiro’s back, from his shoulder to his hip.

Ryou watched, horror choking him, as Shiro’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open in a silent cry of pain. There was a wet splatter, as blood -  _ Shiro’s _ blood, mixed with something like oil - flicked off the end of the stone sword and onto the floor.

The stone creature lifted the sword up in both hands, point aimed down at Shiro’s back. It came down with terrible force.

But Ryou was there, arm lit. The blade jolted to the side, multicolored shards shattering off the blazing prosthetic. In the brighter blue light, the being was easier to make out. It had no face and was easily 8 feet tall.

Ryou watched the sword as it jolted away. The point and edge were broken. Instead, they’d become jagged. What it lost in clean cutting, it had gained in pure damage.

While he was distracted, the creature struck with their other arm. It caught him in the shoulder like a hammer blow. Ryou went down, torn from his feet and sent rolling like a rag doll. He caught himself on his palms and shoved up, back up in moments.

The creature followed, movements eerily silent. Such a large being should have shook the tunnel with their steps. Instead, the feet seemed to blend back in with the floor, and it glided like an ice skater.

The sword came down again. This time, Ryou got his shield up. It hammered down on the force field. The sheer pressure nearly sent him to his knees again, despite being braced.

In the aftermath of the powerful swing, the being had to reset its balance to strike again. Ryou dropped the shield and reeled back to strike.

But instead, a glowing purple hand burst through the statue’s chest. It ripped downward, carving a chunk out of the torso. The creature tottered, but recovered.

Ryou, already prepared to strike, cut through the same wound, this time the other way. Between both blows, the torso was fully bisected.

The head and shoulders went toppling backward. Shiro stumbled to the side, leaning heavily against the wall to avoid being crushed. The stone fell, and once again made no noise. Instead, it melted into the floor, leaving no trace.

The other half crumpled to its knees. The legs twitched, as if trying to get back up. Then it, too, fell over and faded from view.

Ryou waited, arm still up and lit. He didn’t trust the thing not to come back, or not to have friends.

Then there was a thud. Ryou whirled, teeth bared, but it was only Shiro. He’d fallen to his knees, back bowed and his breathing heavy. Blood dripped from the back of his armor, pooling around him.

Shit.

Ryou dove for him, supporting Shiro’s shoulders before he could fall forward. “Hey. You with me?”

“Yeah.” Shiro croaked the word out, his face screwed up in pain. “It’s not- it’s not too bad, I think.”

Ryou stared at him. Then he yanked off his glove and touched the side of Shiro’s armor. His palm came back red with blood, which he showed to Shiro.

Shiro grimaced, eyes falling closed. “I meant I can feel all my limbs. And no muscles were cut. It could be worse.”

That was fair enough, at least. “Okay.” Ryou closed his eyes, mentally cataloguing what he had in his bag. “What are the chances I can get you to head back without the sword?”

Shiro’s eyes rolled up to his. His mouth hung open, taking deep, ragged breaths, and his bangs hung limply over his face. “We need it. I’ll be alright with a bandage. Otherwise we’ll have failed.”

There were far worse things than failure. Ryou knew that. But he also knew how Shiro thought and felt. Failure had never been part of his vocabulary.

Either way, they were going to have to do some walking. Heading back would be uphill, too, which was going to make it worse. But there was just no way to get a lion in these little tunnels, and Ryou had no better option. Even piggy-back rides would be uncomfortable.

“We’re close,” Shiro continued, probably sensing Ryou’s indecision. He reached out and put a hand on Ryou’s shin. “These are the defenses. We just get through them and we have the sword. Turning back now is a waste.”

“You’re chatty for the guy bleeding out.” Ryou tightened his grip on Shiro’s shoulders. The need to protect this stubborn idiot warred with the sick logic of what he was saying. “No more fighting. Next time we run into the defenders, you sit down and stay out of it. Deal?”

Shiro let out a rough chuckle. “Fair. I just saw you go down and I didn’t think.”

“Next time, I’ll kick your ass.” Ryou took a deep breath, stomach rolling. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Fine. We’ll go a little further.” Ryou moved out of the way, though he kept one hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “First, let’s get off your armor and patch you up a bit. We do no good if you pass out from blood loss.”

Shiro’s whole body tensed as he made a face. Then he hissed, probably from straining his back. “Yeah. Help me out?”

“Obviously.”

Between the both of them, they got off the shoulder and chest plating, and rolled down the undershirt. The wound was grizzly, ripped unevenly from the blade, which likely hadn’t been very sharp even before Ryou broke it. The armor and shirt below had minimized some of the damage, especially around the shoulder. After that, though, it had just be split and shattered.

True to what Shiro had said, the wound wasn’t very deep. Had it been, he wouldn’t be walking out of here at all, one way or another. Even so, Ryou’s eyes roamed over the red gouge in his brother’s back. Blood smeared over the skin, making each touch either slick or beginning to get sticky. At places, there was a hint of a darker sheen - whatever had been on that blade.

Ryou had seen such wounds before. He knew how they could get infected, slow someone down, rip open at the worst possible moment. He knew how they could kill in the wrong circumstances.

He also had some experience dealing with them.

Opening the bag on his hip again, Ryou pushed his tools to the side and dug to the bottom, where there was a smaller, metal case. Popping that open, he gave a small packet to Shiro. “Rip the corner and drink all of this.”

“Painkiller?” Shiro waited for Ryou’s nod before obeying. He made a face at the taste, but still swallowed. “I think that’s worse than the fake candy flavors at home.”

“Yeah, just kinda tastes like burning. Now stay still. This is going to hurt a bit, but it’s better than just bleeding.” That established, Ryou pulled out another packet, which he opened himself. Inside were the Altean version of antibacterial wipes.

Ryou carefully cleaned around the edges of the wound, getting off all the blood that he could. He spent extra time over the places with the strange oily substance, until he was certain he’d gotten as much off as possible. Each swipe made Shiro jolt, but he never let out a single noise.

After, Ryou crumpled up the wipes and shoved them away. He didn’t want to leave them behind, not covered in Shiro’s blood. Then he fished out an already threaded needle from his case.

Shiro twisted his neck as far as it could go to watch. His eyes widened at the needle, and he instinctively tensed. After a moment, he forcibly relaxed. “Do you know what you’re doing what that?”

_ Painstakingly stitching up a sobbing alien, another being holding down their arm to keep them still. The thread breaking, heavy with dark blood. Mumbling unheard apologies under his breath as he worked. _

_ That alien still dying in their next fight. _

“Yeah,” Ryou croaked out, eyes closed. “I have some practice.”

Shiro fell quiet. When he didn’t comment, Ryou braced one hand on his shoulder for balance. “Okay, starting in three.... Two...” He pressed in the needed and started to stitch the flesh closed.

A pitched up groan escaped Shiro, muffled through his teeth as he tried to hold it back. But after that first noise, he quieted again. The surprise of it was over. Instead, he pressed his face to the rock and breathed heavily.

Ryou tried to keep an eye on Shiro’s reactions. But, for all his practice, Ryou wouldn’t call himself a natural at this. Hell, he’d never technically done it with his own hands, and not in months. The practice felt clumsier than he remembered. So he went slowly, carefully, glad that Shiro wasn’t instinctively fighting him.

He got about halfway up the back when Shiro finally spoke again. “I forgot this, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Ryou said, very soft. He didn’t look up from what he was doing.

“Where was the thread from? I can’t imagine the-” he cut off as the needle pressed back in. “The Galra just giving out medical supplies.”

Ryou let out a dark little laugh. “Definitely no. I- you got medical treatment for anything serious. You made too much money to let an infected cut kill you. But others didn’t have that luxury. Sometimes it was possible to... barter with the guards, a little. Nothing big. Extra water, a washcloth. Stuff like that. They liked giving it and being able to take it away later when you really needed it. So medical supplies were too much to ask, but a needle and thread? Not so bad.”

“Oh.” Shiro trailed off, still breathing heavily. “I still don’t... I can’t remember any of that.”

“No big loss. It didn’t... it didn’t matter much, in the long term. No one lasted that long anyway. Mostly, I think they found it funny that you kept trying. The Champion playing healer was a hoot.”

Not just that. Sometimes, they’d let the arena run its course. Sometimes, they’d stop feeding whoever was injured and let them starve or die of thirst even if infection didn’t kill them. 

Sometimes, if Shiro had tried to fight back, they’d take whoever he tried to help and beat them until the stitches ripped open. Until they sobbed and shook and bled out. Terkon would laugh and throw the corpse back in to rot, and to remind everyone what rebellion lead to.

“...Ryou?”

Ryou blinked, brought back to himself. He’d frozen, needle poised mid-knot. With a tug, he finished it off and started the next stitch. “It’s never really been useful till now. Not worth remembering.”

“Seems pretty useful at the moment.” Shiro grunted as a tug pulled his ripped skin, but immediately settled. His fingers twitched by his side, the only sign of how much he probably wanted to pull away from the pain. “It’s not really fair, anyway. That you remember and I don’t.”

That only made Ryou snort. “Wow, the universe isn’t fair? Shocking news. We should tell everyone and be sure they’ve heard.”

There was no verbal response, which probably meant Shiro had rolled his eyes.

Finally, Ryou finished off the stitches. He cut off the rest of the thread and left the remains behind, since all of it was pretty coated in blood. Then he pulled out bandages to help cover up the stitches. “That’ll do for now. Coran will probably fuss and take them out before you go in the pod. He thought the entire thing was gross when I told him about it.”

“It’s pretty gross, objectively. But better than the alternative.” Shiro rolled his shoulders, grunting as he did. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up onto his knees and pulled the rest of his undersuit back on. “How bad is the chest armor?”

Ryou picked it up and showed Shiro the back. It wasn’t quite split all the way across, with only a small portion at the bottom left keeping it together. “Honestly, it’ll probably break off all the way if you keep trying to wear it.”

“Seems you’re right.” Sighing deeply, Shiro took it and placed it next to his thigh holster. Like the bayard, the armor faded away in a burst of blue light. “The shoulder pads will do for now.”

“And you’re not fighting. You’ll be more comfortable without it anyway.” Ryou patted Shiro on the hip, then finished packing his supplies. His hands were still tacky and reddish brown, so he wiped them off on his pants as best he could, and tried not to think about how sick the situation was.

Shiro stood slowly, clearly testing his movement. He winced when he twisted too far or moved his arms up. Even shifting from foot to foot made him flinch. But he seemed to at least be functional.

This was such a terrible fucking idea. All for the damn stupid sword of negotiation. What a stupid practice.

“How do you feel?” Ryou asked. When Shiro opened his mouth, he held up a finger. “Honest answers only. There was some gunk on that sword, probably from being here for fuck knows how long. The second you feel off, you need to say something.”

Shiro paused, lips still parted. Then he sighed. “I hurt. I feel like I was cut open and then stuck full of holes, frankly. But the pain medicine helped, and I’m steady. As far as I can tell, the sword only cut me. If that changes, I’ll tell you immediately.” When Ryou continued to stare, he held up both hands, low to avoid pulling his back. “I swear to you I will.”

Ryou stared a moment longer. Then he finally nodded. “We’ll go slow.” He waited for Shiro to start to walk, making sure he didn’t look like he was about to fall over.

Each step was clearly painful. Shiro moved with care, like he was sore all over, or like a man far older. Ryou’s heart clenched for him, and it was all he could do not to bundle him up in his arms and bolt for the exit.

Ryou wanted to protect his family. But he always seemed to just trail after them as they got injured.

Shoving that aside, Ryou finally started to follow. He stayed half a step behind, in case Shiro lost his balance and needed a hand. “So, now we know what the ‘defenders’ are.”

Shiro let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, we definitely met their acquaintance. There will be more, but I can’t imagine it’ll be too many. Someone would have said if there were tens of them.”

Nose crinkled, Ryou thought back. “Yeah, no numbers. Just fight through the defenders. ‘Face your fears’, then sword. It sounded like a challenge, but the minister didn’t make it sound impossible.”

“They didn’t object to just us two going,” Shiro agreed. As he spoke, he seemed to steady, like he was convincing himself it wasn’t much farther. “Maybe a few more. So we’ll keep an eye on the walls. Now that we know where they come from, we shouldn’t be surprised.”

Ryou scowled back up the tunnel. The lights trailed faintly up until they once again vanished. There had been no curves at all, just a long, terrible walk deeper into the heart of the mountain. “They could have mentioned that part. We knew we’d be fighting, but not that they’d come the hell out of nowhere.”

“It is supposed to be a challenge,” Shiro reminded. “Even if we were invited to try.”

“I don’t think anyone wants a dead Black Paladin, though.”

Shiro sighed. “We let ourselves be distracted. We won’t make that mistake again.”

What he didn’t say that the distraction had started beforehand. That Ryou had been totally in his own head, and Shiro’s concern had been what turned his back. That the fight itself would have been simple of Ryou hadn’t set them both off their game.

That wasn’t how Shiro thought. But damn if Ryou wasn’t thinking about it.

***

They continued on, endlessly walking toward the unending stretch of lights and colors around them. After the first attack, both were on high alert. Ryou kept his arm up, armor flashlight on to offer even a little more light to see by. 

Eventually, though, the strain wasn’t worth it. The minutes ticked by, painfully slowly, and their feet fell unintentionally into a steady, continuous rhythm.

Nothing happened.

Maybe that was part of the test. The minister had said to ‘face their fears’, and Ryou had assumed that was just the natural fear from knowing they’d be in combat. But maybe it was the fear in their head, the paranoia caused by endlessly waiting for another strike. Maybe the battles only came when they were distracted, in the moments when they least expected it.

Once again, it was Shiro who broke the silence. “I should learn to do that.”

“Hm?” Ryou glanced at him, then snapped his head back forward. None of those asshole statues were going to catch them off guard again, not while Shiro was hurt. “Tap dance, you mean? Yeah, I think that’d be great. You could do little shows, and you’d look adorable in a bowtie and sparkly suit.”

Shiro huffed out a laugh, but it felt forced. An obligation to answer Ryou’s flip response. “I mean stitching up wounds. I knew before, and I should learn again.”

Yeah, that was what Ryou was afraid he’d say.

“It’s really not been useful,” Ryou said, choosing each word carefully. “How long have you been fighting with Voltron, and this is the first time it’d be worth trying, right?”

Shiro made a disagreeing noise in the back of his throat. “When we were scattered after the first Zarkon fight, I had that cut on my side.”

“What, you were going to stitch yourself together with the thread you didn’t have on you?” Ryou shook his head. “And this is... I have no idea if I did it right. No clue at all. Most people who got stitched up didn’t last long enough to see how it held up. For all I know, it’s worse than helpful.”

Reaching back, Shiro idly rubbed over his shoulder, just above where the stitches started. “It feels like it helped.”

“You’re also drugged. I’m betting that has more to do with it.”

Shiro pressed his lips thin, but nodded. “Possibly. Even so. You never know.”

Why was he pushing this? Ryou’s throat tightened and he resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest. The hallway was perfectly warm, but ice seemed to form in his lungs, making each breath more difficult. “Maybe later.”

“That means no.” Shiro turned, staring at him sternly. “It’s my skill, isn’t it? Why won’t you help me learn. I  _ know _ it, somewhere. You got it from me. Do you have a right to keep it from me?”

The ice in Ryou’s chest shattered, sending thousands of tiny knives into his chest. “Why do you want to learn a useless fucking skill, huh? What purpose does that serve? And who do you think you’ll be testing it on?” Ryou gestured forcibly down the hallway. “Pay attention before you get stabbed again.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Shiro flinced, then his hands clenched at his side. He obeyed, looking down the hallway, but his eyes were narrowed dangerously. “I wasn’t planning on cutting you open and trying it that way, don’t be ridiculous. You know better.”

Maybe not, but Ryou certainly felt cut open. Even the idea of showing Shiro to stitch someone up made the hairs on his neck stand up. It was dangerously, terrifyingly close to memories that Shiro should never, ever have to remember. He didn’t need that knowledge. It would be nothing but a strand of thorns being dragged through Shiro’s mind.

The silence hung between them, now distinctly hostile. Shiro continued to not look at him, gaze stonily ahead. Ryou’s shoulders curled in, and his crossed arms were more self-comfort that defensive.

All the while, the hallway continued on, unabating. No defenders, no sword, just an endless gradual walk further down.

Eventually, Shiro’s foot caught on the rocky floor. He stumbled, automatically reaching out to catch himself on the wall. While he did regain his balance, he let out a pained wheeze of air as the movement pulled on his back.

Ryou stopped, watching him with a wince. “We should take a break.”

“I’m fine.”

Taking off his helmet, Ryou scrubbed over his own face. “We’ve been walking for almost an hour. I’d like a break. And you promised me.”

Shiro’s jaw worked, ill temper still in his eyes. But finally he gave a sharp nod, slowly lowering himself down to sit. “Not for long. And no sleeping here. I don’t trust more of those things to attack then.”

“Agreed. Ten minutes.” Ryou leaned his back against the wall, scanning back and forth quickly. Then he let himself get a good look at Shiro. He looked paler than usual, which was to be expected, given he’d lost blood. There was also definitely stress at the corner of his eyes and pulling down his lips. But also, given the situation, it was understandable.

Shiro’s eyes flicked over, catching Ryou’s scrutiny. Pulling off his own helmet, he frowned right back. “What?”

“Just checking in.”

“I said I would tell you if something was wrong.”

Ryou arched a brow. “Given your track record? I think I’m justified in double checking.”

The bad mood Shiro had been nursing surged up anew, lighting his eyes with temper. “I don’t need you to treat me like a child,” he said, each word sharp and carefully enunciated. “Nor do I want you to. Stop treating me with kid gloves.”

It echoed what Pidge had said recently, about Ryou taking hits for everyone else. The reminder made him tense, just barely suppressing a flinch. But he shrugged it off. “I’m not. It’s reasonable to check in on the person who just got cut open. That’s all.”

“Then why won’t you teach me how to stitch someone up?”

Ryou threw up his arms, frustration finally bubbling over. “Because I don’t want to! Because I don’t like fucking doing it! Because I don’t like remembering the times before! Fuck, did you ever thing that maybe it’s not fun for me?”

Shiro froze, eyes wide. Then, slowly, he looked away. “Oh,” he said, far quieter now. “I suppose not. I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Ryou scrubbed over his face again. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped. I get it. But... It was bad, Shiro.”

There was a long pause. When Ryou looked up again, Shiro was rubbing his shoulder again. His anger was totally gone, replaced by the pain that had no doubt caused it. “It really bothers you so much? Usually you seem... better about it. Than me. Even though you remember more.”

Ryou shrugged. He looked down the hallway again, because that was easier than meeting Shiro’s eyes. “You know I have nightmares. You’ve seen me after.” 

“I have. But you’re so afraid of me knowing, even though you already do, and you never seem as affected as me.” Shiro sighed and leaned back forward, his head clunking softly against the rocky wall. “You let it flow off you better, it seems. And I’m not sure why.”

Ryou gave a bland smile. Once again, he crossed his arms over his chest, this time like he could hold himself together. “Maybe. It’s probably a brain thing, like my sense of taste. Or, hell, I didn’t live through those memories. I just had them downloaded. Maybe it doesn’t cause PTSD the same way like that, you know?”

“Oh.” Shiro’s eyes roamed over Ryou’s face. Then he looked away at the floor. “That makes sense.”

He continued to rub as he fell silent, and somehow Ryou felt like he’d given the wrong answer. And, well, Ryou’s struggles were mostly private, or in small bursts, like over Shiro’s back. But it really was different. Shiro had earned his PTSD. He’d lived through it. He’d survived those experiences. Ryou hadn’t. 

Could he have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder when he’d never been traumatized? Or, at least, not that way.

Probably not.

Ryou went back to his vigil, letting Shiro process and rest. His gaze flickered back and forth, keeping an eye both ahead and the way they’d came.

Finally, ten minutes had passed. Ryou stood, jamming back on his helmet. “Alright, feeling up to some more walking?”

Shiro didn’t respond. His eyes were on the floor, glazed over. His fingers continued to worry over his shoulder armor.

Oh, shit. “Shiro?” Ryou kneeled in front of him. “Hey.”

Finally, Shiro jolted, coming back to life. He blinked rapidly, then focused on Ryou. “Sorry. Yeah. I dazed off, there.”

That wasn’t like Shiro at all. Ryou reached out and put a hand on the side of his neck, never mind that he was still wearing his glove. “You look a little off. Are you feverish?”

“No.” Shiro stood, so suddenly he froze and hissed in pain. “Ah. I’m not. I was just lost in thought. I’m ready.”

Ryou hesitated, but Shiro looked just as steady on his feet as he had before. Besides, after their previous conversation, he didn’t want to act like Shiro was incompetent.

All he could do was trust his brother.

“Okay,” Ryou said, trying to keep casual. “Let’s give it another twenty before we regroup, okay? Because if this is going to keep going, it might be an overnight thing. I’d think someone would say if that was the case.”

Shiro hummed agreeably. “That’s fine.” Then he continued on, not looking back at Ryou as he went.

Sighing, Ryou followed after, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the hallway and not on Shiro.

Finally, after ten more minutes of walking, something was different. The lights as far down as Ryou could see seemed brighter at the end, rather than fading into the dark.

Reaching out, Ryou put his arm in front of Shiro, stopping him from going farther. “That’s a different light. I think we’re at the end.”

Shiro tensed, looking around behind them quickly. “Then where’s the rest of the defenses?”

“Ahead, I presume,” Ryou said. “Like in a video game, where there’s a final boss at the bottom of a dungeon.” He mimed a karate chop, brows up. Then, when Shiro only stared, he shrugged. “Or it’s like how old and rusted the bulbs were. Maybe the other defenses broke?”

No way they were that lucky. Ryou waited, confident Shiro would say exactly that.

But Shiro just continued to stare. In the light from the baubles, there was a sheen to them.

“You okay?” Ryou asked, his stomach sinking. Shit. He’d been an idiot to keep letting Shiro go without interrogation. But what else was he supposed to do? Leave him behind and hope nothing else attacked?

Shiro finally blinked, then looked down at his feet. “I think you should go without me.”

“What?” Ryou’s mouth fell open. “You want me to just leave you? Are you hurt? Please tell me the stitches didn’t rip.”

“No. They didn’t. I just...” Shiro looked down the hallway, his hand coming back up to that same fucking spot on his shoulder. “You’re supposed to get it if you’re worthy, right? So I think you should get it, and I’ll wait here for you.”

It took a moment for Ryou to follow that logic. “You don’t think you’re worthy? Shiro, it’s not the sword in the stone or whatever. The worth is fighting your way here, which you did.”

“Are you sure? Maybe it is like that. Maybe the reason it attacked me is that I’m not worthy.”

Ryou stared, uncomprehending. Why the hell would Shiro think that? Finally, he reached up and cupped Shiro’s chin, forcing him to meet Ryou’s gaze. “Hey. Why would I be worthy if you aren’t? Help me understand.”

Slowly, Shiro slumped in place. The glazed look in his eyes didn’t fade. If anything, it got stronger. “Why won’t you tell me about what you remember?”

This again? Ryou slammed his eyes shut and took a deep, bracing breath. “Because it sucked and it didn’t help anything. Why? Do you think it doesn’t make you worthy or something?”

Shiro swallowed hard and his eyes fell shut. A shiver ran through him, like he had a chill. Despite that, he didn’t seem to have a fever. “When you were fixing my back, I kept thinking about a dream I’ve had. It never connected to anything, and it was just a feeling. But I was on my knees, and my back hurt like when it was cut, but over and over. And there was a Galra in front of me, and he laughed, and I was thinking... I was thinking I’d do anything at all if he’d stop hurting me.”

Shit. Ryou’s heart clenched. Bitterness welled in him, so strong it made him want to throw up, as if he’d directly swallowed poison.

Wait.

Poison.

Oh!

“Sendak said they broke me,” Shiro continued on. The shake had grown, making his hands jolt at his side and infecting his voice. “It’s true, isn’t it? The Galra broke me. They made me something terrible, and I forgot, and you don’t want me to know. What did I do, Ryou? I know what I was like in the arena? What kind of monster was I?”

“Oh, Shiro,” Ryou murmured, voice soft. His grip on his brother gentled, until he was cupping his jaw.

Was Ryou really saving Shiro from pain with all this hiding? Was the infinite imagined possibility of horror worse than the reality?

Before he could decide, Shiro suddenly surged forward. He moved so they were pressed together, chest to chest, and his arm wrapped around Ryou’s shoulders.

The sound of a shield engaging rang through the hallway, followed by the clatter of a stone weapon hitting with bone-breaking force.

_ Shit. _

“Really?” Ryou snarled, even as he activated his arm. “Now? We were having a fucking moment, here!”

Shiro flinched against him. “I’m sorry. I’m not worthy. I knew it. They’re here for me.”

Oh, this was not the time. “Shiro, the trial is overcoming fear. That’s what was on the blade. You’re poisoned. Now snap out of it!”

Shiro’s head came up, his brow furrowed. “What?”

This was taking too much time. Ryou held onto Shiro with his left arm and dodged to the right, ignoring Shiro’s gasp of pain. 

One of the stone creatures charged forward, melting out of the wall that had been behind Ryou and smoothly forming into the other. 

Before Ryou could even try and process where it had gone, a head and shoulders formed out of the floor like a swimmer emerging from a pool. As it climbed out, it gripped at the weapon forming in its hand and pulled back.

Ryou didn’t think. He just brought up his own shield to block.

An impossible stone whip collided against the force field, cracking loudly like a real version would.

Shiro tensed, taking a careful step back from the impact.

Ryou froze completely.

With Shiro’s description just moments ago, his mind fell back into that moment - and then to the minutes before. The glowing whip carving into his back. Tekron’s voice, smug and satisfied, telling him that the Champion would come to heel. The knowledge that minutes ago, the same whip was used to kill others - friends. Those Shiro had encouraged to stand their ground with him.

Was he really doing the right thing when he fought back? Or was he just prolonging the pain, and leading others to their deaths?

An impact hit him in the back. Ryou went down hard, tumbling on the rocky tunnel floor. He only caught a brief glance of the original creature, wielding a staff, turning on Shiro instead. The downward angle sent him tumbling right to the feet of the creature with the whip. 

It stood over him, weapon held high. At this angle, it looked even taller, broader. The blank face was cruel, gleeful, ready to inflict pain.

Ryou knew this moment.

But this time, he wasn’t helpless.

The whip struck down. Ryou’s arm came up, and it wrapped around the metal with unnatural fluidity. But when he yanked back, the stone still shattered into rainbow shards. The creature was left with the handle and a tiny, limp fragment of the whip.

While it recovered, Ryou shoved himself up to his feet. He wanted to dive at the thing, drive his fist into its face, over and over until he could hit his demons through it. 

But there was something more important. 

So instead Ryou kicked out, hitting the creature in the chest. It stumbled back, sinking back down into the floor several inches as it did.

Without waiting, Ryou turned back and sprinted to Shiro.

The creature had Shiro pinned to the wall. He had his shield up, moving it quickly to catch each blow from the stone spear. But the effort was clearly hurting Shiro, his arms shaking from the effort of taking the impacts.

So Ryou did the first thing he could think of.

He ran up and hopped on the thing’s back, bringing his fist down on the top of it’s head. “Leave! Him! Alone!”

The head started to crumble apart, each strike chipping away more stone. The creature paused, then leaned backward and charged. 

Ryou slammed into the other wall, hard enough to make him wheeze. His ribs creaked under the pressure, forcing out his breath.

Out of desperation, he continued to smack his fist down. There was no grace, no strategy. Just the mindlessly flailing of someone being hurt and wanting it to stop.

There was a streak of purple, and the whole creature shuddered. Ryou focused down and saw Shiro, his fist buried into the stone creature’s stomach.

There was also the other defender, weaponless but charging up the hallway.

“Shield!”

Shiro reacted on trained instinct, bringing his shield up again. The creature ran into it, nearly sending Shiro right off his feet. He managed to keep upright, but cried out in pain. His legs shook like he was about to fall over.

The pressure on Ryou’s ribs started to give. More and more of the creature fell away, crumbling from the sum total damage both of them had done. Ryou continued to strike, now faster and more desperately. It had been one thing when he’d been it pain.

It was another time when Shiro was in pain, and Ryou could only watch.

“Run,” Ryou croaked out, all he could manage when he was being crushed. “Just run, I can-”

The other creature raised both arms up, threading the fingers into a giant fist the size of Shiro’s entire chest. Then he brought them down hard.

But Shiro wasn’t there anymore. He dove between the creature’s legs, using the angle of the tunnel to tumble just as Ryou had accidentally done. On the way, he swung his arm, cutting through one leg at the knee.

As Ryou finally chipped through his own creature enough that it began to melt back into the rock, the second one crashed to the ground.

Shiro stood over it, his face as hard as the stone around him. Then, while the defender struggled to right itself, he punched his lit fist down, crumbling the head and shoulders in one go.

It too melted away, leaving Shiro on one knee, hand to the stone floor. The arm flickered out, and he let out a wheeze of pain, crumpling forward.

Ryou dove forward, catching him before he hit the ground. “Shit. Did you get hit again? Did the stitches tear? I told you I’m bad at it.”

Shiro stayed limp for a long moment. Then, slowly, he got his hands and knees under him again. His breath came in ragged, painted pants, and he was still shaking from exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I know I promised. Don’t be mad.”

It took a moment for Ryou to realize what the hell Shiro was talking about. Then he barked out a laugh. “Because you fought? You would have died otherwise. Hell, you saved me from being skewered. I’m not mad.”

Shiro looked up at him with those glazed, pained eyes. There was hope in there, but tempered, like believing him would hurt too much. 

Ryou finally give in and pulled Shiro in for a hug, careful not to jar his back more if he could help it. “I’m not mad. And you’re more than worthy, Shiro. You’re the most worthy person I know.”

“But...” He trailed off, then took a deep breath. “You said before. M’poisoned?”

“Yeah, I’d say so. You’re definitely not in your right mind.” Ryou settled him back into a sitting position, then cupped either side of Shiro’s jaw. “You are not a monster. They hurt you, and sometimes you listened to orders because they’d hurt you more. That’s not the same thing as being broken. It’s picking your battles. Please, even if you’re not sure. Trust me, okay? You’re worthy.”

Shiro stared. Then, slowly, he relaxed into Ryou’s touch. “I trust you,” he breathed back, more of a promise than anything he’d sworn that day.

Ryou smiled back, heart clenching. 

Maybe the worry hurt Shiro. Clearly it had today. But the memories he held in his head were terrible. They choked Ryou when they came up, and he hadn’t even really lived them.

It was better for him not to know.

Ryou would make sure of that.

“C’mon,” he said, patting Shiro’s shoulder. “How’s your back? Need another set of bandages? Want me to carry you after all?”

“No,” Shiro said. “I think it held. Or, good enough for now.” He stood slowly, wobbling on his feet but upright. It was clear he was in more pain than before, but it wasn’t bad enough to keep him down.

“Okay.” Ryou looped an arm around Shiro’s hips, low enough that he wouldn’t aggravate the wound. Then they slowly limped their way down into the cavern.

After all that, the room with the sword was downright plain. It was small, barely thirty feet across, and shaped like a hemisphere. More of the lights looped around the top, and at the base of the pedestal, made of more of the colorful rock.

True to Shiro’s prediction, and against Ryou’s objection, the sword was stuck into the stone.

“Go on,” Ryou said, smiling at Shiro. “Take it.”

Shiro jolted, eyes wide. He looked to Ryou and hesitated. Then, he took a slow step forward, and another, until he was in front of the sword.

For a moment, he did nothing but stare. Then he looked back at Ryou, as if for reassurance. When Ryou just gave him a thumbs up, he looked down again. Shiro took a deep breath, then reached out.

The sword pulled cleanly out of the stone.

Shiro stared for a moment, as if he didn’t believe it. Then, slowly, he smiled.

Of all the fears the poison could have drawn out, Shiro had worried he wasn’t worthy.

It made sense. It was Shiro’s greatest anxiety. The one that drove him, the one that froze his heart. The belief that this status he’d gained, his place on the team, his bond with the lion - all of it was fragile. That he wasn’t truly the Black Paladin, and someday it would all be a fake. Someone would take it away, and he’d be the Champion again.

From his place on the outside, Ryou could see how absurd that was. Like he’d said, Shiro was the most worthy person he knew.

And Ryou’d prove it to him. One day at a time. 

That included protecting Shiro from memories that would only make his fears worse.

“Ready to head home?” Ryou asked.

Shiro stared for another moment, then turned to him, still smiling. “Yeah.” The stepped over, and knocked their shoulders gently together. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Ryou said, and meant more than Shiro knew.

More than Shiro would ever know.

He swore it.


	5. Tekron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! This is a five plus one!
> 
> It was not supposed to be, so I guess it's a surprise for all of us

In his relatively short life, Ryou had done many stupid things. 

He’d made bad jokes, run into danger, burned and shocked himself on more projects than he could count. He’d lied to his friends and family, stared down loaded weapons, and nearly been ripped limb from limb.

This was the dumbest decision he’d made yet.

Despite that, Ryou was sure it was the right thing to do.

“Hey, can we talk?”

Lance looked up from whatever Altean game he’d loaded onto his tech pad. He had a now empty bowl of snacks held between his socked feet, and the spoon hung forgotten from between his lips. “Hm?” The game beeped at him, and immediately his face scrunched up. “One sec.”

“Sure.” Ryou remained in the doorway, resisting the urge to fidget. Instead, he leaned his shoulder against the frame, arms crossed tightly against his chest.

Lance continued to tap away, his entire face screwed up in concentration. The jabbing grew more frantic, until he finally groaned and threw his head back. “Ah, damn.”

“Game over?”

“Yeah.” Lance pulled the spoon out from between his teeth and dropped it into the bowl. “Ah, well. Next time. Anyway, what’s up?” He pulled his feet back and encouragingly patted the couch cushion next to him.

Ryou glanced back down the hallway, all too cognizant that anyone could walk by without their notice. “Uh, actually, this is a little private.”

Lance’s brows rose, and he looked over Ryou with new, more serious interest. “Oh. Yeah. I can do that.” Hopping up, he collected his bowl. “Your room?”

“I have a place set up.” Ryou gestured for Lance to follow, then turned around. As he walked, he could feel Lance’s curious eyes on the back of his head. He ignored it, as well as the goosebumps rising on his remaining arm. All of him was keyed up, electricity twitching through him, but he had to remain cool.

Ryou could not afford to be caught. Not for this.

He led Lance to one of the many conference rooms in the Castle, far enough from the main living quarters to make it unlikely they’d be found, but not so far it would attract notice. Then he gestured for Lance to take a seat.

Pulling out his chair, Lance eyed Ryou. “Okay, I’m going to be honest here. You’re kind of freaking me out right now. What’s going on?”

Ryou sat across from Lance and folded his arms on the table. He met his gaze directly, holding still until Lance was forced to just look as well. “I’m going to ask something of you. Something I have no business requesting of anyone. I wouldn’t do this, except that it’s important. But before I tell you, you have to swear you’ll never tell anyone. Not Shiro, not Coran, not Hunk. No one at all.”

Lance’s mouth fell open. He looked at Ryou, then around the room, like he was looking for a hidden camera. “Are you serious?” When his only response was a steely stare, he swallowed hard. “Do I at least get a hint?”

“No.” Ryou set his jaw and tilted his head up higher, trying to stare his way into Lance’s soul. “I can’t risk this. You have to swear. And you have to be  _ serious _ about it.”

Lance ran his fingers through his hair, eyes wide. “Okay. This isn’t, like, freaking me out or anything. Nope, definitely a perfectly normal thing to ask.” He looked up, then groaned. “I’m guessing you can’t tell me why you want to tell me until I agree, huh?”

Ryou’s expression softened, but only a touch. “I can tell you it’s because I trust you, in part. But that’s all for now.”

Drumming his fingers on the table, Lance looked at the door again. Then he dropped his head. “Not even Hunk?”

“Not a word. Not even after. You can never tell anyone. If you’re doing this with me, then no one ever knows. And if you don’t want to help once you know, you can’t tell anyone else then either.”

Lance sighed, still not looking up. He closed his eyes, shoulders curled up. “This is really making me nervous, Ryou.” When he didn’t get a response, he finally looked up again. “Okay, one more question. If I say no, then are you going to try and get someone else, or do this alone? Or will you give up on whatever you want to do?”

Ryou stared back calmly, like his gaze and body were made of steel. “I’d hope to have your help. But I’ll figure something out otherwise. This isn’t something I can let go.”

Groaning, Lance smacked his hands down onto the table. “Okay. Okay! If you’re just going to get yourself into trouble and not tell  _ anyone, _ then I guess I’m helping. What are we doing?”

It was hardly a vote of confidence. But even so, a smile pulled across Ryou’s face - the first in hours. Despite what he was asking, despite the rolling sea of anxiety crashing in his stomach, it was nice to know he’d made a friend who was so ride or die.

Rather than respond, Ryou tapped on the table, pulling up the information on their next mission. The Galra space station appeared between them, cast in the pale blue of a hologram. 

Running his finger through the air, Ryou spun the station, then zoomed in. They went through the walls, into the blueprint of the structure, as provided by the Blade of Marmora intel. He stopped over a particular wing, filled with storage and housing units.

Lance leaned forward, expression uncharacteristically serious as he followed Ryou’s movements. “Is this supposed to mean something to me yet?”

“No. With luck, it won’t mean anything to anyone else.” Ryou pulled up another screen, this one projecting a list of about half a dozen names. “In the briefing from Kolivan, he said that this station houses some of the higher ranked individuals that are still part of the Empire.”

Lance nodded, resting on his elbows. “Yeah, I remember that part. That’s why the station has so many resources that are worth stealing, yeah? But there’s only supposed to be, like, three of them there when we raid the place. The rest are off doing other missions. Hell, that’s the entire reason for doing the mission so soon.”

“Correct. But what matters to me is who is still left on the station.” The list of names shortened to the three remaining.

Lance looked up and met Ryou’s eyes. Then his breath caught. “You recognize someone, don’t you?”

A dark, bitter smile pulled itself over Ryou’s face, like someone had tied strings to the corners of his lips and pulled. “Yes. Specifically, him.” He tapped one name, and a window with the Blade intel popped up.

Lieutenant Commander Terkon. Recently promoted. Known for his short temper and long cruelty streak.

Formally the warden of the Arena.

Ryou’s fingers curled against the table, nails scraping over the metal. He wanted claws so he could sink them into something, fangs so he could bite down, fire in his breath to blast his fury into the air.

“This.. being was in charge of Shiro while he was in captivity.” Ryou stared at the report. His whole body tensed until he was eerily still. “He is personally responsible for some of the worst abuses to the prisoners. He delights in the pain of others, and the power he can wield over them. He is the  _ worst _ sort of scum that the Galra Empire has encouraged to fester.”

Lance’s eyes flickered as he skimmed through the report. His face grew ashen the more he took in, until he leaned back in his chair. “That’s bad,” he agreed, a little faintly. “But why is it a secret? Shouldn’t Shiro know?”

_ “No.” _

The barked word echoed in the room. Lance jumped as if Ryou had took a swing, eyes wide. Then his jaw set stubbornly. “Why not? This guy hurt him. Doesn’t he have a right to know?”

Ryou took a deep breath, covering his eyes. Frustration and fear warred in him, bleeding dangerously into anger. His problem wasn’t with Lance, and he had to remember that. Lance was  _ helping. _

“In other cases, I’d say you were right. But Terkon is different. He tortured Shiro, Lance. For a year. He hurt others in front of Shiro. Killed them. Starved them. Messed with the prisoner’s heads, drawing out punishments, making examples of them. Shiro’s brain forgot it for a reason. The memories would hurt him so much worse than the ones he already has. He can  _ never _ know who Terkon was, and that he was close.”

Eyes sharp, Lance crossed his arms. “What about you? If seeing the guy would hurt Shiro so much, won’t it hurt you too? You have the same memories.”

Snorting, Ryou shook his head. “I already remember. I can’t remember again, it’s already there. And besides, I’ve talked about it with Shiro. I’m pretty sure my brain is different from his. Why would Haggar make a weapon that freezes up?” He tapped his temple.

Lance’s lips pressed thin, but he didn’t object.

Pressing his advantage, Ryou nodded to the report that had so rattled Lance. “There aren’t many Galra commanders anymore. Terkon got his rank through the arena, but eventually he won’t be able to avoid real combat. I can’t afford to let Terkon go free to run into Shiro another day. Do you understand?”

Lance closed his eyes tightly. His fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on the table. “So you want to kill him. On a mission. Without anyone else knowing.”

“Correct.”

“You don’t ask for a lot, huh?” Lance flopped back in his chair, scrubbing over his face. He took several long breaths, timed so carefully he was probably counting in his head. “That’s why you want me. You want me to snipe him?”

Ryou winced. “Not necessarily. Terkon’s favorite weapon is a whip. He can fight from a distance, or get in up close and-” He froze, tensing against a gag. His heart pounded frantically in his chest, and sweat built on the back of his neck. “Up close. That’s not a good combination for me. You don’t need to kill him, but I need him weakened. A shoulder or leg shot will do it.”

“So  _ you _ can kill him,” Lance finished dully.

Shrugging, Ryou leaned back as well and crossed his arms. “We’ve killed a lot of Galra commanders.”

“It’s a little different to shoot down a ship than to do a secret hit during a different mission, Ryou.” Lance shook his head. “Alright. Say I understand why you can’t tell Shiro. Why can’t you tell Coran or Hunk or Pidge or anyone else?”

Ryou shook his head again. “No. The more people who know, the more chance it gets found out. Shiro puts us together on missions a lot, since our ranges compliment each other. I can get him to pair us without questioning it. But if everyone knows and is helping, he’ll be able to tell something is up.”

“That’s...” Lane cut himself off and covered his eyes, probably biting back a synonym for ‘absolutely nuts’. “And what happens if something goes wrong? What if you get injured, or we get cornered, or a Robeast pops up? You know, any of the hundreds of ways our missions go wrong all the time?”

Ryou bit the inside of his lip, forcing himself to think about the question instead of shutting it down. Because Lance was right. Things did go wrong, and charging ahead and ignoring that only opened them up to greater danger.

“If...” He bit his tongue and stood in one jerky motion. The sudden movement made Lance flinch, which Ryou ignored for the moment. Instead he paced, arms crossed over his chest again. “If something goes very, very wrong - I mean, ‘can’t hide it anymore, the game is up or else someone is going to die’ wrong - then you can call whoever you want. Allura, Coran, fucking Slav, I don’t care. But until then, no one else.”

Lance watched him walk, head rotating slowly to track him. His eyes shone with wholy unwelcome sympathy. “Those memories are bad. You think even reminding Shiro of them will hurt him. Are you sure you should be doing this? Maybe someone else can handle it.”

“No.” Ryou whispered the word, like it was sandpaper scraping through his throat. “No. It has to be me. For one, he needs a reason to fight and not immediately run for back-up. I can lure him to a place we can lock-down because of who I look like. He’ll think I’m Shiro, and he’ll want to...” A shiver ran through him. “He’ll want to gloat. Regain his power over the Champion. He knows how much damage he did.”

Lance’s shining, soft eyes didn’t look away for a second. He folded his hands over the table. “Is that the real reason why?”

“Yes.” Ryou stopped and rested both hands on the table. He bared his teeth, like the rabid animal inside of him that wanted to take over. “And because I want to do it. So no, Lance, I don’t want you to kill him. I want you to give  _ me _ an opportunity to kill him. The universe will be better, and I  _ want _ it. He deserves to die, and I want to make him pay for what he did to my brother.”

Lance tilted his head. His gaze lost the emotional shine, instead flicking over his face. No longer his goofy friend, but a sniper.

“Nothing is stopping me from walking out of here and telling everyone.”

Ryou met his gaze dead on. “I’m trusting you not to.”

Slowly, Lance nodded. “Yeah. You are.” He hesitated, then took a deep, bracing breath, like a soldier preparing for battle. “I think this is dumb. But if you think you can handle it, then no one can argue he doesn’t deserve this.” He nodded to the hologram. “Show me your plan.”

A smile, thin but thankful, spread over Ryou’s face. “Thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me for this. I’m pretty sure I’m helping you make a huge mistake. But what kind of friend would I be if I let you make it alone?”

Ryou’s smile grew, warming his eyes for a moment. Then it bled away again as he focused on the hologram. 

“Alright, here’s what we’ll need to do.”

***

“Remember to move quickly and quietly. Just because there’s minimum personnel doesn’t mean no one is here.” Shiro braced his hand on the Green Lion’s hatch, giving everyone a last glance. “Everyone has their explosive charges?”

There was a general round of agreement. Rather than speak, Ryou raised his pouch and gave it a rattle, before reattaching it to his belt. 

By his side, Lance pressed in closer. The movement might have been out of nerves, or just a side effect of how tightly the team was crammed in Green. Even as large as the lions were, their actual working space wasn’t much.

“Good. Get in, get the intel, take any supplies you can carry, and tag the rest. On the way out, we’ll detonate and burn up what’s left in storage. After the dust clears, they’ll have no idea what’s missing and what’s been torn to pieces.” Shiro nodded to Pidge. “How long will Green’s cloaking last?”

Pidge tilted her head, clearly doing math in her head. “While matching the station’s orbit? About six or seven varga. Plenty of time.”

“More than enough,” Keith agreed. “These missions usually take less than a varga with the Blades, and those are teams of three.”

Allura nodded confidently, one hand on her hip. “Yes, this facility is not large, and the intel we received from the Blade of Marmora was thorough. We should have no problem navigating and taking what we need.”

“Agreed, but don’t rush.” Shiro gave them all a look over, his eyes serious behind the glass of his helmet. “If you need to hide, take as much time as you need until you feel secure. If you feel unsure, call for help. There’s too many military presences within quick wormhole range to take risks.”

Hunk held his own bag of explosives carefully. “How powerful are these things, exactly? Should we wait till set them off until we’re, like, way far away?”

Snorting, Pidge flappd a hand. “Nothing like that. They shouldn’t even break the hull of the ship. All we’re doing is blasting the stuff in the storage rooms, not wrecking the whole place. But maybe don’t set them off in your hands or anything.”

“Aye aye,” Ryou drawled, snapping off a lazy salute. His heart wasn’t in it, but he gave a smile anyway. “Do we get to go be pirates, now?”

Shaking his head, Shiro visibly bit back his own smile. “Pillaging, privateering. Should I be worried?”

“For little ole me? Never.”

“Alright, I think we’re ready. On three. Three... two...” Shiro gripped Green’s hatch and yanked it open.

The air rushed out around them and gravity disengaged. Shiro pushed out first, gesturing for Hunk to follow. Once they were both through, Keith stood at the hatching, holding the edges and waiting.

Pidge had taken Green all the way to the side of the station, so the hull was only a good push away. Within moments, Shiro lightly landed against the side and lit his arm, cutting a paladin-sized hole. He ducked in, Hunk on his tail.

Once they were through, Keith followed, with Pidge and Allura right behind them.

Now alone, Lance looked over at Ryou and grabbed his arm. “You still sure about this?” He asked quietly.

Ryou looked at him, and let the faux good humor of the briefing bleed away. “Very sure.”

With that, he hopped out of Green and into the void. After only a second’s hesitation, Lance followed.

When they climbed into the ship, the rest of the team had already disappeared toward their respective quarries. Shiro and Hunk went to the main supply hub, their duel strength perfect for taking whatever supplies the team needed. Keith, Allura, and Pidge headed to a control terminal to download the latest, high level troop movement.

Which left the smaller supply room, nearest the generals’ rooms, to Lance and Ryou.

The hallways were nearly. On their way, they only ran into one sentry, which was easily dispatched and thrown into an empty room. Almost all of the personnel, even the robotic ones, had been pulled for the current military engagement. In this particular sector, that meant trying to regain planetary control from a Galra general turned independent warlord. 

Despite that, Ryou didn’t relax. He couldn’t, not when his heart was going wild. It took all his control to keep moving stealthily, and not break into a full sprint. They were close. They were so  _ close _ to Terkon. He was here, in the same building, breathing the same air, existing and thriving as if he hadn’t made the lives of so many prisoners hell.

Today, in minutes, Ryou was going to stop him from hurting anyone ever again.

He was glad. He was viciously, gleefully happy.

But a small part of him, deep down in his stomach, cowered back in animalistic fear. Ryou had so many memories of pain and suffering at the hands of that monster. He knew intimately how good Tekron was at finding vulnerabilities and sinking his claws in.

Yet Ryou was walking right back into that hell.

“There,” Lance hissed, pointing a set of blast doors up ahead. “Are those the ones you need?”

Ryou closed his eyes, mentally comparing their entrance and path to the map he’d spent so long staring at. “Yes,” he said. “Give me a minute.”

“Gotcha.” They moved to the other side of the door, and then Lance pressed himself to the wall. While Ryou worked at the attached console, he held out his bayard, prepared in case anyone stumbled on them. 

A moment later, the blast doors slammed shut. The panel on the side went red, then dimmed entirely. The lights of the section faded, not enough to affect a fight, but enough to make Ryou’s features just a little harder to see. A little easier to mistake him for Shiro.

It would also lock down this part of the station. What was supposed to be security to defend scum like Tekron would be why he couldn’t get sentry help if he called for it.

Perfect.

Ryou’s hands shook. He clenched them at his side, ignoring the jitters running from his chest through his limbs.

This was it. They were doing this.

Tekron was next.

“Let’s go,” Ryou said, stepping around Lance. “We need to get you set up.”

Lance said nothing. He was tense, shoulders tight and gripping his bayard like he wanted to crush it. But he followed along with only grim determination.

True to their supposed mission, they made a beeline for the large supply room nearby. But instead of setting up the explosives, they made their way to the crates and scaffolding in the back.

“GIve me a boost?” Lance asked. Ryou cupped his hands and leaned down. When Lance stepped on his linked palms, he raised him up, until Lance could climb up onto the highest metal shelf.

Once up, Lance shifted a few of the boxes, then crawled his way behind them. “How’s this?”

Ryou stepped back, squinting. “Can you bring them closer together? I can see some of your armor between them.”

After a few moments of adjusting, Lance peeked over the top. “How about now?”

“Yeah. That should work.” If Ryou really tilted his head and peered in, he might be able to see pieces of Lance. But if he didn’t know where to look, Lace was basically invisible.

Which meant it was time.

“Be ready. I’ll be back in a minute or two.”

Lance took a deep breath, like he was preparing to talk. Instead, there was a moment of silence. “Stay safe.”

“Safe’s not the goal. But I’m not giving him the satisfaction of killing me.” Ryou gave Lance a last weak grin and thumbs up. Then he stepped out into the hallway, and around a curve.

A few doors down, visible now, was the entrance to Tarkon’s quarters.

Ryou considered not going ahead with the plan. He considered cutting through the door, kicking it open, and cornering Tekron in the room. He could just jump him, damn the rest, strike out while he wasn’t expecting.

But there was no way he could get through the door fast enough to keep the element of surprise. Tekron would still be ready, and in a place he was comfortable and familiar with. In his own domain, with all his personal effects, including communication devices and spare weapons.

No, that wasn’t the right way to do this. They had a plan.

So Ryou took one of the little explosives out of the pouch and tossed it down the hallway. Then he ducked back around the corner for cover and detonated it with a tap to his armor.

A shockwave of heat raced past Ryou, threatening to knock off his helmet. He grabbed it and yanked it back down firmly, heart racing. He couldn’t afford to lose it. Not when he needed Tekron to believe he was Shiro. The wrong armor color could be written off. Having different features would be too suspicious.

Ryou leaned back past the corner, peering out at the damage. The explosives were meant to work in tandem, and were far too weak to break through the walls of the station. Because of that, the single device did limited damage, close to the impact of a grenade. The walls and floor around the detonation point were slightly warped outward and charred black. 

Holding his breath, Ryou waited. His whole body was tense and still, like a greyhound preparing to bolt. His eyes stayed firmly locked on the door farthest away from him.

Several seconds passed.

The door opened and a familiar figure stepped through. Tekron’s face was twisted with affront, like an attack on the hallway was a personal insult to him.

In a way, he was right.

Ryou’s plan was to bolt. Only give Tekron a glimpse of the Voltron armor and his face, then head back toward their trap. That would be plenty to entice him to follow.

But in the moment, Ryou didn’t move. He couldn’t, locked in place at the sight of Shiro’s ( _ his) _ tormentor.

Tekron took a step forward. The small amount of smoke from the explosive did little to obscure him from view. He was huge, filling the doorway completely with his bulk. His ears pointed backward, and his jaw was broad and flat. The contemptuous curl of his lips revealed several fangs. As he stepped forward, he rested one metal-tipped claw on the cylinder on his hip.

His yellow eyes locked on Ryou, then went wide.

_ His yellow eyes locked on Shiro, then narrowed. _

_ Tekron looked him over, head tilted ever so slightly. Then, with shocking speed, he planted his boot on Shiro’s chest, right over where his wrists were bond. The blow sent Shiro onto his back with enough force that he bounced.  _

_ Before he could even try to twist and get his hands under him, Tekron’s boot impacted his side. The kick rolled him over and made his rips creak. A groan slipped past Shiro’s lips, despite his best efforts. _

_ Tekron’s chuckled, low and pleased. “Just like that, Champion. Maybe this time you’ll learn how to properly show respect. Clearly, the last time wasn’t enough.” _

_ There was a click and a familiar hum. Shiro flinched and tried to squirm away, or curl up to defend himself, or  _ anything _ that would prevent the pain. _

_ Tekron’s whip, glowing bright red in his peripheral vision, struck down. The metal hook on the edge dug into Shiro’s flesh, carving a new bloody line from one side to the other. His skin and muscles hissed as the heat cut through. _

_ Shiro bit his lip and shoved his face into the dirty, metal ground.  _

_ But when the next blow strike, he couldn’t stop his scream. _

Slowly, a terrible, covetous grin spread wide over Tekron’s face.

“Champion,” he said. His tone dripped with smug satisfaction. 

Ryou has heard that exact tone a hundred times before. It meant Tekron had his victim exactly where he wanted them. A bully and a sadist to his core, he loved having power over someone, then using that to enact as much pain as possible - physical and mental.

Legs shaking, Ryou took a step back, and then another. His back hit the wall, stopping his mindless retreat. Each breath was rabbit-quick, fluttering in his chest. The whole situation felt like a dream. Another memory, twisted and made horribly anew by his sleeping mind.

Tekron continued to advance, slow and confident. His smug glee only grew as he approached. The longer Ryou cowered, the more comfortable he became. “I knew it. I knew I’d come across you again. No one else knew how to handle you. But I do. I made you, after all.”

In one smooth, lightning fast movement, Tekron pulled his whip handle free, activated it, and struck at Ryou.

Ryou rolled to the side on pure instinct. The red glow of the whip filled his vision as it moved. The tip stuck the wall, leaving a sharp gouge behind.

Finally, Ryou bolted. His steps were clumsy, like his feet no longer knew how to move. There was no grace, no control. Only the panicked, fearful scurry of prey.

And he was being hunted.

Fear raced through Ryou’s veins. He knew trying to run and escape was useless. It only ever hurt him worse. Sometimes, Tekron would turn his back on Shiro. Leave the door cracked. Let him think there was an opportunity for escape. But it was a trap, and when Shiro took it, Tekron would turn and strike. 

Everything was an excuse for punishment. 

Tekron roared behind him. The noise seemed louder than the explosion before, and rippling out like a second shockwave. “Always running, Champion!” Tekron called. The words echoed around Ryou, like Tekron was all around. “You ran from opponents in the arena, too. But there’s never anywhere to go, is there? You always give in eventually.”

Ryou pushed off the wall, scrambling into the storage room. He heard Tekron’s pounding footsteps, the gait familiar. 

_ He was in his cell, back to the wall as if being farther from the door could protect him. Those exact same steps pounded ever closer. Around him, the other aliens scrambled back in their own cells. All of them cowered, hoping that they weren’t the ones who had angered Tekron this time. _

_ The shadow of the Galra appeared in front of him. He was a silhouette, huge and imposing, backlit by the constantly shining purple light. His eyes were only barely visible, and his teeth glinted dangerously as he bared them. _

_ “Bring the Champion. And all his little cellmates. One at a time.” _

“Ryou?”

The voice, spoken right next to his ear, made Ryou jolt. He straightened, arm up, and tried to still the way it shook. “He’s coming.”

“Are you-?”

The question was lost when Tekron stormed into the room. “There you are. Cornered like the  _ vermin _ you are. Pathetic and weak as ever. You’ve been indulged too long, and now it’s time to return to your lessons.”

Over the comms, Lance gasped, then went dangerously silent. There was no further comment, but he would be lining up his shot.

Ryou met Tekron’s eyes, saw the malice and glee in them. He believed it all, honestly thought Shiro was someone to break beneath his heel. That he was weak. Unworthy.

Another memory bubbled up, but this time it wasn’t Shiro’s. It was Ryou’s, from only a few weeks ago. 

While retrieving that sword in the mountain, Shiro had been scared. He’d felt unworthy. Pathetic. 

He’d been so relieved to hold tangible proof that he was  _ good. _

And Tekron was the reason why.

Ryou’s fear ignited, roaring into angry flames. 

No one talked about his brother that way. Especially not  _ this _ asshole.

With a cry, Ryou launched himself forward. Tekron raised his whip, but his eyes went wide as Ryou impacted first, with enough force to send them both into the air.

“Ryou!” Lance hissed, audibly horrified. “What are you doing? You’re in the way!”

This wasn’t the plan. But  _ fuck _ the plan. Ryou needed to smash his fist into Tekron’s face.

They landed with a thud, hard enough that they skidded several feet across the floor. Ryou landed on top, mostly because there was a lot of Tekron to land on top of.

Fist lit, Ryou drew back to strike.

But a huge hand closed around his arm, from upper forearm to halfway up his bicep. The metal tipped claws of Tekron’s gauntlet scraped tiny furrows into the armor.

“Oh, is there some fight in you after all?” Tekron squeezed Ryou’s arm, hard enough that the armor creaked under the pressure. “Let’s see it, then.”

So Ryou punched his face with his other arm.

It was a solid punch, but with Ryou’s off arm and without proper wind-up. Tekron’s head snapped to the side. A red welt started to form over his cheekbone. 

But before Ryou could even pull back for another strike, Tekron shifted. A huge foot braced against his chest-

_ -he planted his boot on Shiro’s chest and shoved him down- _

-and shoved upward. Ryou was thrown into the air, only to be stopped short by his still tightly held arm. Tekron used his momentum to swing Ryou down next to him. He threw him onto the metal with a painful  _ crack. _

Ryou scrambled, trying to get his arms under him again. His head swam from both impacts, as well as the onslaught of memories.

The shadow of Tekron fell over Ryou as he stood to his full, impressive height. For a moment, his smug pleasure faded, replaced with confusion. His eyes traced between the white armor and the prosthetic, glowing blue instead of purple. 

Shit.  _ Shit. _ If he realized his prey wasn’t Shiro-

Without thinking, Ryou dove for Tekron again. This time there was no intent to tackle, no plan to strike. He just needed to make Tekron focus on the fight.

But Tekron was prepared for him this time. The whip came down. Ryou scrambled to the side, but his momentum carried him forward.

The whip struck the side of his head. The curved metal tip hit the helmet, shattering the side. The length of it struck Ryou’s exposed face, burning from his cheekbone and down to his chin.

Heat. Pain. Blood.

_ Shiro struggled, spitting out curses in as many languages as he knew. His arms were cuffed together and his legs tied up. But he still tried to bite the hands holding him down, elbowing and kicking out with all the fury in him. _

_ These creatures were vile. He’d known it from the moment he’d tried to speak with them, and instead got himself and Matt sent to the arena. There had been no choice in the arena against the being with the strange energy staff, but now he wasn’t going to play by their games anymore. Even if he couldn’t escape, Shiro refused to be their little prisoner. _

_ One of the Galra, larger than the rest, stepped forward. He grinned, as if Shiro’s struggles were a game. “Not willing to play nice, are we? Do you think you’re strong because you got lucky in that fight?” _

_ Shiro bared his teeth at the Galra and refused to be baited. He only continued to fight against his bondage. If he could just get his hands free, he could really show them a bad time. _

_ The Galra smiled, showing off his terrible, serrated teeth. “You’ll learn. They all do.” _

_ With that, he pulled off a cylinder from his belt and activated it. A glowing whip unravelled from it, red hot even from a distance. _

_ Shiro’s eyes went wide. His struggles grew even stronger, now trying to get away from what was clearly made to cause pain. But even so, he clenched his jaw, absolutely refusing to beg. That’s what this asshole wanted. _

_ The whip cracked, striking a wound that caught Shiro’s jaw and cut down his chest. The pain was extraordinary, both flaying and burning him at once. He jolted, hissing out in pain. _

_ The Galra paused, yellow eyes roaming over Shiro like he was waiting to see his response. _

_ So Shiro spat at him. It only reached the floor by his feet, but the intent was clear. _

_ The Galra’s smile fell. _

_ The whip raised, then cracked. _

_ By the end, Shiro screamed. _

Ryou blinked just in time to see the red coming toward him again. The whip cracked against his shoulder and neck, once again cracking the armor. The wound from before ached and throbbed in time with his frantic heartbeat, and the new one scored a hateful, burning line into his skin.

Swaying in place, Ryou gulped in air and tried to remember where he was - who he was. There was a goal, but it was swallowed by the fear. He wanted to crash to his knees and give up. Duck his head and accept the punishment. Fighting back made it so much worse. It hurt. It  _ hurt. _ He just wanted the pain to end, to go back to his cell where he could suffer in private.

“Move!” A voice said, so sudden and close that Ryou jolted. He blinked, and remembered anew where he was. “Ryou, move so I can-”

The words faded into white noise as Tekron closed the distance. He reached out with one huge hand. Ryou stumbled back, but the movement was clumsy with pain and confusion. The gauntlet closed around his neck. Each metal tipped claw dug into the cauterized wound on his neck, ripping it open anew. Ryou choked, at first in pain, and then from the pressure.

Tekron, grinning in pure satisfaction, lifted Ryou off the ground.

The pressure on his neck grew worse, like he was being hanged in the Galra’s grip. Ryou kicked his legs, but he couldn’t do more than brush the armor. Arm still lit, he struck up, but his elbow was once again caught.

After all, Tekron knew exactly how the original prosthetic worked. He’d seen it more times than anyone but Haggar. More importantly, he knew the limits of it, because he’d always wanted to know how to control Shiro. No prisoner was given a weapon that could be used against the warden.

Still smiling, Tekron brought him in close, until his hot breath puffed over Ryou’s face. “I know that fear. I’ve missed it. You know this is the natural order of things. Where you  _ belong. _ You’re the Champion. You belong in the arena and under my control. You’ve played this game of being a paladin, but we know what you’re really good-”

There was a crack, completely different from the sound of Tekron’s whip.

A flash of red light struck Tekron in the shoulder. His armor cracked and fell away, revealing a new, weeping wound. He roared in pain, dropping Ryou as he clutched at the wound. Furious yellow eyes tracked up and he snarled.

Ryou followed the look, still in a daze. Lance was standing up over the top of the crates he’d hidden behind. The bayard was out, in the form over a pistol. He stared down the scope, face furious and determined.

“You made friends again, Champion?” Tekron drawled. He was angry, but there was something darkly gleeful in his face as well. “You’d think you’d have learned better by now. Or maybe you don’t mind when others take your punishment for you.”

Oh.

Oh, no. He hadn’t thought this through. 

Tekron knew there was no better way to hurt Shiro than to hurt others in his stead.

While Lance aimed for a second shot, Tekron burst forward. He was big, but he was  _ fast, _ and at this close range, Lance couldn’t follow in the scope.

Lance finally dropped the rifle, but it was too late. Tekron was at the base of the storage unit. His whip cracked, aimed upward. 

Much of Lance was blocked at the bad angle, but it wasn’t about doing damage. Instead, the metal tip wrapped around Lance’s arm several times. The metal tip sank into the armor, holding fast.

No. No no no no. This had all gone so wrong. 

Then, Tekron  _ yanked. _

Lance cried out as he was yanked off his perch. He fell the ten feet and slammed into the ground, bouncing once before he settled. The impact shook off the whip, but Tekron was already raising his arm for another strike.

Lance looked up, meeting Ryou’s eyes. His own held a question -  _ what’s the plan? _

Ryou just stared, utterly frozen. He couldn’t move. He didn’t even breathe.

He knew what happened if he struggled.

_ Shiro roared, fighting back against the two Galra holding him back. Tears dripped unabashedly down his face as he struggled. _

_ While he watched, helpless, Tekron raised the whip and brought it down. The alien below him - Thygala, who had done nothing but listen to Shiro’s speeches and encouragement - screamed in pain as their skin split and burned. _

_ “This is the price of the Champion’s treachery,” Tekron announced. He’d said similar lines several times to Thygala, and to the others before them. But each time it cut Shiro as cleanly as a weapon. “This is the price of his folly.” _

_ The whip came down, and down, and down, and down. Until the screaming stopped. Until the sobbing stopped. Until the twitching stopped. _

_ “Take this out and bring in the next one.” _

_ “No!” Shiro shook his head, straining with renewed strength. “Please, stop. I won’t rebel again. I swear I won’t. Please, just punish me. Not them.” _

_ Tekron shook his head, a sick parody of paternal disappointment. “You still don’t understand, Champion. You’re rebelling right now, aren’t you? You can’t help it. You’re weak, and you can’t control yourself. But you’ll learn. Bring in the next one.” _

_ Shrio sobbed as Thygala’s body was taken away, and quiet, shy Renpime was led in. _

_ But he stopped struggling. He hung his head and listened to the screams. He heard Renpime plead, but Tekron only repeated what he’d said before. _

_ This was the price of Shiro’s folly. This was what happened to those who followed him. And when he fought back, he only made it worse. _

“Ry-”

Tekron’s foot planted into Lance’s back, shoving him back down to the floor. His bayard, already jostled from the fall, skittered away on the ground. It came to a stop just a few feet from Ryou.

“Another poor, foolish follower. Admit it, Champion. You enjoy this part. You like seeing them hurting. Why else would you do it over and over, when you know exactly what happens?”

Tears dripped down his cheeks. It wasn’t true, it  _ wasn’t. _ Except maybe it was. He’d known what would happen. He remembered what befell everyone who helped him. So why had he brought Lance?

Lance reached out desperately, scrambling against the metal floor. He tried to kick up or reach back, anything to stop Tekron. But the Galra had several hundred pounds of bulk against Lance, even if he could have reached.

Tekron smiled at Ryou, openly pleased with his passivity. “You still know how to behave after all.”

Then he struck his whip down over Lance’s back.

The armor took the first strike, even as the metal hook tore a gouge through it. The second one deepened the cracks, and finally the third shattered the armor completely.

Lance screamed-

_ Thygala screamed- _

_ Renpime screamed- _

The smell of burning flesh filled the room. Tears flowed down Ryou’s cheeks, the only rebellion he was allowed, and only because Tekron liked it.

Lance’s face was ashen with pain, and he continued to try and scramble away. But Tekron’s foot on his back kept him pinned, like a moth under glass.

His arm was still out, fingers splayed as he reached toward Ryou-

No, to his bayard.

Only a few feet away. In reach, before Tekron could stop him.

Ryou looked at the reverted weapon, then back to Lance. Even through the pain, Lance’s eyes were clear and determined.

But rebellion would lead to Lance being killed. He knew that. He’d learned it the hard way.

Ryou shook his head.

Tekron struck again, laughing. Lance’s eyes slammed shut as his whole face screwed up in pain.

When he opened them, Lance expression was frustrated but sympathetic.

Even while being flayed and cauterized, Lance was  _ understanding. _ He met Ryou’s gaze again, and mouthed a word. A name. 

Ryou.

Not Champion. Not Shiro.

Ryou, who had made this whole plan. Ryou, who remembered but had never lived through Tekron’s torture. Ryou, who had believed he was a useless redundancy until Lance came to him.

Ryou, who was watching his first friend be cut open by the man who tortured his brother.

Ryou, who  _ was not going to watch any longer. _

“Hey,  _ fuckface.” _

Tekron’s head whipped around to stare at Ryou. Anger twisted his face, but so did confusion. Shiro’s insults had usually been at Tekron’s failings as a being, not childish name-calling.

But he wasn’t fucking Shiro, was he?

With that, Ryou scrambled forward and grabbed Lance’s bayard. He threw it low, so it skated across the floor into Lance’s willing hand.

The second it touched Lance’s fingers, it flashed and reformed as a longsword. Without even blinking in surprise, Lance twisted around as best he could and struck upward. He cut straight through Tekron’s armor and cut into his thigh.

Tekron’s head snapped down as he registered the movement and the new threat. The blow made him roar his pain, nearly losing his balance. Instinctively, he pulled his leg away.

Then he stamped his foot down - right onto the wounds he’d sliced into Lance’s back.

Lance  _ screamed, _ at a pitch even the previous attack hadn’t managed.

But in the time Tekron had been focused on Lance, Ryou had been closing in.

With a cry, Ryou slammed his lit fist into Tekron’s side. His red and black armor shattered around the blow. Where the prosthesis touched, the flesh sizzled and burned.

“How do  _ you _ like it, huh?” Ryou bared his teeth at Tekron, a wild light in his eyes. “Not so fun now!”

Tekron didn’t answer. His teeth were gritted and his eyes narrowed. The game had stopped being fun, and became incredibly, deadly serious. From the way his eyes darted between Ryou’s armor and lit arm again, he’d finally figured out something was wrong.

Stumbling back a step, Tekron put space between himself and Ryou. He struck with the whip, and this time Ryou didn’t dodge away. He took the blow, letting it slice through the undersuit on his side. The whip wrapped near completely around him, burning and slicing. But Ryou barely felt it.

This was  _ it. _

Ryou swung. But Tekron knew his range and was fast. He stepped out of the way of the blow, and the next. His whip came around again, cutting into Ryou’s other side. The flesh blackened and the suit began to melt. The smell of burning flesh got worse.

But Ryou didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He’d charge and  _ fight _ until this was over.

There was a crack. Tekron dropped.

Now halfway across the room, Lance stood, his bayard once again a rifle. This time, he smiled as he looked through the scope.

Tekron was on one knee, clutching the weeping wound in his thigh. Lance had managed to shoot almost exactly the same place he’d stabbed before, where the armor was already broken.

When Tekron raised his arm, another shot hit his hand. The handle went flying, as did two fingers.

Tekron looked at Lance, then up at Ryou. On his knee, he was still almost the same height as him.

But Ryou might as well have towered over him, from the look on his face. Now he understood. Now, he was the helpless one. Now he was the victim.

“Champion-” Tekron began.

“That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

Ryou smashed his lit fist into Tekron’s face.

The body went down, and Ryou followed with it. He hit the broken skull, over and over and over, until his fist finally hit the metal. And even then, he continued.

For Lance, who had been tortured because he’d helped Ryou.

For all of Shiro’s cellmates, who had just dared to dream of something better.

For Shiro, who remained so good and kind even after this monster had reigned over him for a year.

For Ryou, for the pain he couldn’t forget, that he’d lived in his own head.

“Ryou.”

Finally, he slowed to a stop. Lance sounded tired and pained, and like he’d already called his name several times already. Bit by bit, Ryou realized he was covered in blood and fur, and probably other substances.

Slowly, Ryou turned around and moved carefully over to Lance, who was sitting back down on the ground. “I-”

“I already called the others,” Lance continued. He sagged in place, in pain and bone tired. “They’re coming now.”

Yeah, that- that was good. Especially with Lance in that condition. There was no hiding this.

Ryou kneeled in front of Lance. He reached out, then hesitated. Finally, he put one hand on Lance’s knee, which looked safe. “I’m sorry. I... I couldn’t....”

Lance’s eyes snapped up to him. Slowly, he gave an exhausted smile. “We were both really stupid.”

“Yeah,” Ryou agreed. Tears welled again. “I think I was more stupid.”

“Maybe a little.” Lance closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his expression was clear and certain. “But I’m really glad I got to help kill that guy. Screw him.”

Ryou let out a wild, hiccuping laugh. “Yeah. Me too.”

They were still smiling at each other when the team poured into the room. What had been, for a few moments, a gloriously quiet room filled with noise and questions and cries of alarm.

Shiro stepped over first, horror on his face. He looked between Lance and Ryou, torn who to go to first. But Allura and Hunk swarmed to Lance, the former’s hands already lit with alchemy. 

Stepping out of their way, Shiro kneeled in front of Ryou. He looked him over, taking in the wounds, the tear tracks, the pain. Terror and pain and confusion filled his dark eyes.

“What happened?”

Ryou smiled. “I took care of it. So you didn’t have to.”

There was so much to deal with, so much fallout to handle, so much pain to heal.

But right now, Ryou only wanted one thing.

Slumping forward, Ryou rested his forehead on Shiro’s shoulder. “Can we go home now?”

Shiro stilled, and then rested his hands on Ryou back. “Yeah. We can go home.”


	6. Himself

“Ah.” Hunk said. He didn’t sound pleased.

Ryou’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. He sat in his pajamas, legs crossed, the pieces of his latest project strewn around him in a vaguely organized mess. In his mouth, he held a screwdriver like a dog with a toy. Holding his jaw open stretched the bandaged burn on his cheek, but he ignored it easily enough.

Glancing back at Lance’s pod, Ryou’s shoulders drooped. “Hey,” he said, muffled around the tool. He made a face and spat it out before facing Hunk properly. “Checking on Lance?”

“That was the plan.” Hunk stepped further into the room, eyeing the dozens of tiny pieces around Ryou. “I assumed you’d be in a pod too.”

“Nope. I got bandaged up and that should do it. Nothing too serious got hit.” Ryou pulled up his top, showing the bandages wrapped around his stomach.

Hunk stared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression was blank, his eyes guarded.

It reminded Ryou of his first few days as himself, when Hunk had been wary of him.

Yeah, he’d fucked this up pretty royally. He deserved that mistrust.

“Why not just get them taken care of in the pods?” Hunk asked, voice still neutral. Or, trying to be. Hunk was a great diplomat when it came to catering to other cultures, but he wasn’t great at hiding his displeasure.

Ryou shrugged, then winced. “Honestly? I’m kind of hoping this scars.” He pointed to his jaw, brows up. “I keep up the white hair because I like it, but it’s nice to have a permanent difference from Shiro, you know?” Under Hunk’s continued, intense stare, he sighed. “And I really don’t like the pods unless I’m dying. Too cold. I’m not really in the mood.”

Sighing, Hunk ran his fingers through his hair, careful to avoid his headband. His stony posture fell away, replaced with exhaustion. “Yeah, I guess it’s all close to the surface right now, huh?”

“A bit.” Ryou winced and looked down at his project. “If you were hoping for some privacy, I can disappear for a bit.”

Hunk bit the inside of his cheek like he was considering it, then shook his head. Instead, he sat in front of Ryou and picked up one of the screws. “I just wanted to check in and see how long it was going to be.”

“One varga and eight dobashes,” Ryou said immediately. He twirled his screwdriver between his fingers. “Or maybe seven by now.”

Nodding, Hunk carefully set the screw back down precisely where he picked it up. Of all of the ‘nerd squad’, he was by far the most finicky about where things belonged. Hunk always assumed there was a method to the madness, even when Ryou or Pidge placed their pieces wherever. 

The silence stretched. Ryou watched, waiting for the screw to drop, and for Hunk to say his piece. It was coming eventually.

But instead, Hunk braced his arms behind him and settled in more comfortably. “What are you working on?”

“Uh.” Ryou blinked down at his hands, as if he’d forgotten. The question was reasonable, but it felt out of nowhere. Where was the scolding? “Honestly? Nothing important. I found a few pieces that gave me an idea, and I keep messing with the hover tech, and...” He trailed off, realizing he was babbling. “A Voltron action figure, basically. It’ll fly. I just thought it was funny.”

Hunk’s brows winged up. “You’re making a toy?”

Ryou’s cheeks warmed. He looked away again, rolling one of the little blue pieces that would become Voltron’s wings across the floor. “Silly, right? I’ve got better things to be doing, I know.”

“Actually, I’m glad.” Hunk’s lips curled up at Ryou’s obvious shock. “Between your injuries and being...” He gestured vaguely toward Ryou, “distracted, I’m glad you’re not doing something critical.”

Ryou continued to toy with the pieces around him. “Oh. Good, then.” He trailed off, until the only sound was the metal scraping around on the floor.

_ The hooked metal tip of the whip gouging a line through the metal wall. _

Blinking hard, Ryou kept his eyes on the floor. “You sure you don’t want me to go?”

“I’m sure.” Hunk sighed, stretching out his legs to the side to avoid kicking any of Ryou’s parts.

A pause.

“You know that was  _ stupid, _ right?”

Ryou flinched. But at least the sword of Damocles was falling. The waiting had been even worse. “Yeah. I know.”

“Incredibly stupid,” Hunk continued, as if Ryou hadn’t said anything. He threw out both arms as if trying to show the magnitude of the foolishness. “Worse, it was entirely predictable stupidity, which makes me feel like I should have seen this coming.”

Ryou eyed Hunk flatly. He braced his elbow on his thigh and tried to lean his chin on it, but winced when it put pressure on the burn. “You should have known the warden of the arena would be at a mission, and that I would convince Lance to go on a secret assassination mission with me?”

“Yes.” Hunk held Ryou’s gaze for several seconds, then slumped. “Okay, no, not that specifically. But the very first Galra we met was someone Shiro knew, right? And there was Ulaz, too. At this point, we should have expected to run into another, and that you’d do something about it.”

Ryou raised a brow. “That still doesn’t predict the sneaky murder part.”

Hunk sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, that was definitely a surprise. Except pulling Lance into it.”

Shrugging, Ryou nodded. “Yeah, having a sniper would have been extremely helpful if I hadn’t fucked it up.”

“Not that.” Hunk snorted at him and used his thumb to gesture at Lance. “Of course you pulled in Lance. He’s your first friend, isn’t he? You’re comfortable with him. And neither of you know what reasonable limits are.”

Ryou drew himself up, offended on Lance’s behalf. “Hey. Lance thought it was a stupid idea. He only agreed because I said I’d do it even if he didn’t help.”

That didn’t make Hunk so much as blink. “And he didn’t even question that you two could assassinate a Galra commander. Who you have a personal vendetta against. In the middle of an unrelated mission. Without anyone else ever noticing.”

Arms crossed, Ryou winced. “Oh. Yeah.” He jabbed the pieces of Voltron’s chest against the floor. “To be fair, if I’d been smarter, we would have.”

“That’s  _ not comforting, _ Ryou.”

“Then what would  _ be _ comforting?” Throwing up his hands, Ryou stared down Hunk, who froze. “What do you want me to say, here? Do you want me to dissuade your guilt? Obviously you couldn’t have known. That it was a dumb plan? Yeah, I fucking know, thanks. I can’t take it back, and I wouldn’t anyway, except Lance getting hurt. Or do you want me to feel guilty that Lance is in that pod? Because news flash, Hunk, I’m not sitting on the floor for funzies.  __ So what do you  _ want?” _

By the end, Ryou was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with the effort. Both his arms were still in the air, and his face was flushed with temper. Hunk stared at him, utterly stunned.

It was only then that he realized how loud he’d been yelling. He hadn’t even meant to start.

Ryou dropped his arms into his lap and took several slow breaths. A shiver ran through him until he curled in on himself, fighting off the cold that only existed in his head.

“Sorry,” he croaked out, eyes firmly shut. “I didn’t mean to... you’re right to be upset. I made mistakes.”

Hunk sighed, slowly and deep. “I’m sorry too. I really didn’t come here to scold. Now’s not really the time. We’re here for the same reason.” He paused, but Ryou didn’t need to look up to know he was watching Lance. “It just worries me, that this happened and we didn’t know till after. You scared us.”

“I know.” Ryou clenched his eyes tighter. His hands shook in his lap.

_ His hands shook. He stood in place, listening to the familiar footsteps come. Ancient terror welled in him, seizing through his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. He was standing in storage. He was cowering in his cell. Both versions knew that pain came next. _

“Ryou?”

“I know,” Ryou repeated, voice tighter than before. “I scared you all. I  _ scarred _ Lance.”

A hand brushed Ryou’s shoulder.

_ The huge hand curled around his neck, metal tips digging into the wound, tightening to cut off his breath- _

Ryou blinked and found himself with his back against the wall. His breathing, already fast, now fluttered uselessly in his chest. He was choking. He couldn’t get air.

Hunk still had his hand outreached, but his fingers drooped in the air. Horror and sympathy filled his gaze. “Oh.”

Still shivering, Ryou slumped against the wall. Dizziness crashed over him until gravity seemed to disengage. His fingers scrambled against the metal for a handhold.

“Shit. Okay. Ryou. Ryou, can you look at me?”

With no small amount of effort, Ryou forced his head to look in Hunk’s direction, and his eyes to actually focus rather than slide away.

Hunk was much closer now, his knees knocking away all the little screws and pieces that Ryou had set up. Once he was sure Ryou could see, he reached out and took his hand, then put something small and metal in his palm.

It was the little machinery that would become the Mini Voltron’s chest and shoulders. Ryou blinked at it, not sure what he was supposed to do with it.

“Deep breath,” Hunk said. His gaze was direct and serious, like this was very important. “Slow. Count it out. Then tell me what comes next to build your toy.”

Distantly, Ryou recognized the plan. He needed to calm down, so Hunk was distracting him. He’d tried similar techniques on Shiro after a nightmare.

Finally, Ryou started to obey. He counted, mouthing the numbers as he breathed it, held it, then let it out. It took another two breaths before he had the air to speak. “S’just joints.” He wiggled the ball joint to show. “Needs arms. Then plating. Paint them first. The stabilizer is in the back. The wings will cover it. Then I’ll add pulsars to the feet to make it fly upright.”

“Sounds good,” Hunk said. He slowly sat back down, relaxing as Ryou began to focus again. “This is a plan I approve of.”

Ryou huffed out a watery laugh, then wiped under his eyes with the base of his palm. They’d teared up while he was hyperventilating. Frankly, all of him was pretty gross. “At least that’s one.”

“I’m sorry. This really wasn’t the time to drag all this out.” Hunk started to carefully gather up all the pieces of metal he’d scattered, or at least those still in arms reach. “I swear, I thought you’d both be in pods. I didn’t come here to get on you.”

“You said. I know.” Ryou gave a wane smile and a shrug. “You’re not wrong, anyway. And why should I get out of a scolding when I deserve it?”

Hunk dropped his handful of screws, rods and casings in front of Ryou. “It can wait. You’re not okay right now, Ryou. Anyone can see that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re  _ not.” _ Hunk met his gaze seriously “If Lance wasn’t due out in an hour, I’d tell you to go get some sleep.”

Ryou wrinkled his nose disdainfully. “Sounds lame, actually.”

“Well, you’re going to want some sleep before you have to deal with Shiro.”

Wincing, Ryou ducked his head and went back to playing with the toy’s arm joints. “He’s, uh.... I’m guessing he’s mad?”

Hunk barked out a humorless laugh. “He’s really not happy. Especially since he read back over the intel we got from the Blades in full.”

Shit. Ryou pulled his knees up and rested his forehead on them. “He knows?”

“As much as the intel says. I haven’t read it myself.” There was shifting as Hunk got comfortable again. “But he’s been in a mood since.”

“He wasn’t supposed to know,” Ryou said, mumbling out the words into the fabric of his pants. His fingers slid into his hair, nails digging furrows along his scalp. “He was never supposed to know. That was the point.”

He’d had one job. One simple purpose. Don’t let Shiro know. Don’t let him remember. He’d already known the memories were leaking through. His fears at the mountain had shown that. And now after all his work, Ryou had led him to the information.

“Ryou? Ryou, please. Are you counting your breathing?”

“I’m not hyperventilating. I’m mentally kicking my ass.” Ryou picked his head up and rested his jaw on his knees. This time, he ignored the ache in his jaw. “I’m really bad at this, aren’t I?”

Hunk cracked a smile. “I think it’s a good thing if you’re bad at secret assassinations. But that’s just my opinion.”

No, that was bad too. Because if Ryou was good at his job, if he’d kept his head when it mattered, then Shiro wouldn’t have to delve into those details. And Ryou couldn’t even go look after him, because that was definitely going to take longer than an hour. After everything he owed it to Lance to be here when he got out.

Hunk hesitated, then reached out and gently put his fingers on Ryou’s knee. “Can I hug you?”

The gentle points of contact were shockingly hot, even through the fabric of his pants. Ryou hesitated, then nodded.

Slowly, Hunk wrapped his arms around Ryou and gave a tight squeeze. The heat of him was a balm to the chill that had never quite gone away.

Ryou closed his eyes and lowered his knees. Like that, Hunk could hold him more securely. He leaned into the embrace and returned it much more loosely.

It was nice. Even when he was so damn frustrated with himself, even with Hunk’s arms brushing his burns... it was nice to know Hunk didn’t hate him.

When Hunk pulled away, he looked over Ryou’s face like he was studying him. Then he gave a wane smile. “Don’t do this again. Please. Don’t do it to Lance, or Shiro. Or yourself.”

Ryou pressed his lips thin, but nodded. “Yeah. I won’t.”

He wouldn’t. The action had been right - Shiro should never be exposed to one of his tormentors. But the way he’d done it had been wrong. Next time he’d play it smarter.

Luckily, Hunk seemed satisfied with his answer, at least for the moment. He picked up the abandoned toy again, rolling it between his fingers like a puzzle. “What can I work on?”

“Want to build the legs?”

A smile spread over Hunk’s face. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

***

Just under an hour later, Mini Voltron was more than half finished and tucked neatly away. The med bay had filled, starting with Coran, until the whole team was accounted for. The mood of the room, while always anxious, had an extra edge that left Ryou pressed against the wall.

Finally, the pod door opened. Lance stumbled out, blinking sleepily against the bright lights. He started the expected post-healing teeter, but Hunk caught him immediately.

“Hey, buddy,” Lance greeted, returning the embrace. “How in trouble are we?”

“Very,” Hunk shot back, muffled into Lance’s shoulder. “I’m going to kick your ass when I’m done being glad you didn’t die.”

“Sounds about right.” Lance nodded philosophically, patting Hunk on the back. He surveyed the room, brows up. “Full house, huh? How long was I in for?” He looked over to Coran.

“Just under five varga,” Coran said. His eyes roamed up and down Lance’s body critically, as if looking for places the pods could have missed or forgotten about. “Luckily the damage was localized, even if the wounds were nasty.”

Wincing, Ryou’s eyes dropped to the floor, then rolled over to Shiro’s profile. His brother wasn’t looking at him, and instead watching Lance just as critically as Coran. If he had a reaction to Tekron’s damage, it didn’t show on his face or his tight posture.

Meanwhile, Lance continued on. “Eh, not bad at all. C’mon, an exploding robot couldn’t take me out. After that, this is nothing.” He flexed his arm and waggled his brows.

Allura let out a delicate cough. “I think your back would appreciate it if you stopped being damaged there. My alchemy was able to help, but there’s a limit to both myself and the pods.”

“Hey, take it up with the Galra commanders, not me. They keep doing it.”

Pidge stepped forward, her arms out. “Alright, enough hogging. Give the rest of us a turn.”

Hunk stepped back, distinctly reluctant, and gave Pidge room to latch onto Lance. After that, there was a surge as everyone went to greet Lance - and to remind him never to pull that kind of stunt again.

For his part, Ryou held back. He wasn’t sure he should, when his plan was the reason Lance had been hurt.

Except Lance’s head craned around until his eyes snapped onto Ryou. His gaze flickered down to the visible bandages, but he still beamed. After delicately extracting himself from another of Hunk’s bear hugs, Lance trotted his way over.

“Hey there,” Lance said, smiling softly. He pointed to his cheek, in the same place Ryou was burned. “Going for your own cool scar?”

Fondness welled in Ryou, so powerfully he couldn’t help but beam. The motion stretched his cheek, making it ache, but he didn’t  _ care. _ “Exactly. I’m glad someone gets it.”

Because Lance did. Not just the desire to stand out and be himself, but avoiding the chill of the pod. Without having to be told, Lance would know, because he knew Ryou that well.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, for that and for what Lance had gone through for you, Ryou pulled him into a tight hug. His hand splayed over Lance’s back, where he’d been injured just a few hours before. 

He’d been whipped because Ryou couldn’t bring himself to act.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hopefully quiet enough that no one could see. He knew this wasn’t really private, not with everyone else gathered around. Not when they could probably see the way his face was crumpling. But fuck it. “I’m so sorry, Lance.”

Lance squeezed back and sighed. “Don’t be. Seriously, don’t.” He pulled back and rested his hands on Ryou’s shoulders. His fingers brushed the bandaged burn, but so lightly it was an itch rather than an ache. “I should be apologizing to you.”

Ryou stared, utterly uncomprehending. “To m- Lance, this was my stupid idea. You didn’t want to.”

“But I went along with it. You know what I was thinking, while waiting for you to come back with that asshole? That I’d have never, ever let Shiro to do that.” Lance looked up at him, all the humor falling away into weariness.

Ryou nodded slowly, still confused. “Yeah? That’s exactly why I asked you to help.”

“But why did I let  _ you?” _ Lance shook his head, eyes shining with open regret. “I was watching the whole fight, Ryou. I could see when you weren’t really there.”

Ryou stepped back, his hands on Lance’s forearms. “I was the one that told you it was okay. Seriously, Lance, you don’t need to apologize. Not after what happened. Not when I...”

Lance shook his head again, harder this time. “See, you’re doing it again. Why is it okay to subject you to that asshole, and not Shiro?”

“I didn’t live it.”

“But you remember it, don’t you?” Lance stepped forward again, jaw set. Drawn up to his full height, he still only made it to Ryou’s nose, but he suddenly seemed to be the taller of them. “It hurts you. I saw it.”

Ryou winced, head ducking as Lance finished. “Yeah, but a tolerable amount. Better than Shiro.”

“Why do you have to hurt at all?”

Because no one else would know ahead of time. Because it was better for Ryou to take the hit than Shiro. Because that was his job. Because he could handle it, and Shiro already had so much to tackle.

Because he loved Shiro, and didn’t want to see him hurt.

Sighing, Lance pulled him in for another tight hug. “Just let me be sorry I helped hurt you.” His voice was tight and exhausted, so like when he’d admitted to calling the rest of the team.

Ryou had wanted to spare Shiro, and instead he’d asked Lance to watch him hurt.

Squeezing him back, Ryou nodded. “Okay. I forgive you, and I won’t ask you to do that again.”  _ I’m sorry, _ he added in his head, a desperate plea with no answer. There would never be words for his regret, for now he’d collapsed and watched Lance take such a vile punishment. There had been no chains holding him back like there’d been for Shiro. Only fear.

Ryou didn’t know how to make up for that. He didn’t even know how to bring it up, not really.

“Good.” Lance reached up to pat Ryou’s cheek, then paused. Instead, he patted the top of his head, like Ryou was a puppy. Then he whirled around, not bothering to even step back. “Did I miss dinner?”

Hunk looked between them both, curiosity openly shining in his eyes. “Nope, we were waiting on you.”

“Good. Let’s go, then.” Lance made shooing motions at the group. “Come on, before I start nibbling on the castle.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you ate the scenery,” Pidge drawled, even as she started for the door. Her watchful, worried eyes gave lie to her words.

Lance huffed at her, the drama of the noise only adding to her argument.

Watching everyone file out - including Shiro, who hadn’t met Ryou’s eyes the whole time - Ryou tugged his wrist back. “You go on. I just.. .I can’t, right now.”

Ryou didn’t want to be stuck in the dining room with everyone, especially Shiro. Just the past ten minutes had been rough. Besides, the idea of forcing food he couldn’t taste down his throat didn’t exactly sound appealing at the moment.

Lance glanced over his face, then nodded. “Okay,” he said, simple as that. Because Lance was  _ the best. _ “Make sure to grab something later, okay?”

“I will.” Ryou smiled back more genuinely. “I have a project anyway. I’ll eat when I finish up.”

“When you emerge from your nerd mode, got it.” Lance gave his arm a last squeeze, then followed after the group, continuing his loud descriptions of how hungry he was.

Watching him go, Ryou smiled to himself. He’d made a good friend - or rather, a good person had decided to be his friend. He was glad he hadn’t ruined that.

Once the sounds of the group faded, Ryou made his way down to his workshop.

***

The joy of learning how to work with technology was that it made for a fantastic distraction.

Ryou flew Mini Voltron around the room, watching the movements and making sure the flight was stable. The controller he’d made was crude, with two joysticks that controlled either height or direction. At least it functioned, and gave him an idea of what still needed tweaking before he painted and applied the casing.

Landing Mini Voltron, Ryou picked up the toy and rolled it around. “Maybe I’ll give you a cape, too,” he mused. “That’d be funny, right?”

There was a squeak of agreement behind him.

Ryou jolted, dropping Mini Voltron and shoving his wheely chair back. His heart pounded, and his arm automatically came up, unlit but prepared.

Chuchule froze as well, her eyes wide. Slowly, her ears and tails drooped. Behind her, the other three mice climbed up onto the workstation, looking alarmed at the standoff.

Dropping his arm, Ryou sighed and scrubbed his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m easy to startle right now.”

Chuchule tilted her head, then nodded. She scurried to the edge of the desk and stuck her neck out, tail held high and curled. When Ryou didn’t immediately move, she pointed impatiently to her ruff.

Finally, Ryou scooted over, obediently scritching under her neck. He rested his other arm on the desk, so the mice could climb up more easily. He now knew from experience that they didn’t need it, but it was far more comfortable than them climbing up (or under) his shirt.

Ryou had come here to hide out. But that wasn’t an issue with the mice. They didn’t particularly care what he’d gotten up to, so long as everyone came back and they were taken care of.

It was nice.

“You guys want to see what I’m working on?”

Chulatt darted up Ryou’s arm and settled on his shoulder, peering back on Mini Voltron in open interest. He tugged on Ryou’s ear and pointed, squeaking excitedly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Ryou offered his palms for the rest, and transported the whole lot to the bench he was using. They could have easily hopped the distance, but he didn’t mind being their taxi.

Once they were carried over, the mice crowded around Mini Voltron, poking and prodding with obvious interest. Ryou waited for them all to get in close, then snapped out the wings with the tap of a button.

All four of them scattered back, Plachu nearly falling clean off the table. When Mini Voltron did nothing else, they slowly crept back.

Platt pointed to Mini Voltron’s wings, then up and around the room. Ryou followed the gesture, before realizing he was trying to indicate flight. “No, those don’t make him fly. They just keep him stable. Pulsars at the bottom make him float. See?” He pressed up on the joystick, and Mini Voltron rose several inches into the air.

The mice chittered their approval. Chulatt climbed onto Platt’s back, then hopped onto Mini Voltron, clinging by the leg. The toy dropped, struggling against the increased weight, but slowly regained height. Triumphant, Chulatt scaled Mini Voltron like a mountain climber, then settled in smuggly on his shoulders.

“I’m not sure that’s very safe,” Ryou pointed out dryly.

Chulatt flapped a little paw at him, waving away the concern. Then he pointed up, eyes wide and hopeful.

In response, Ryou landed Mini Voltron. Chulatt pouted at him, falling backwards and landing on the table in a sulky ball of fur. “No way. Allura would kill me. For good reason.”

Plachu pointed to his back, then held his arms above his head, nearly managing the classic Superman pose. He hopped up and down on the table, then pointed again.

That one took longer for Ryou to puzzle out. “Oh, you want a jetpack, like on the armor?”

Squeaking, Plachu nodded. He crossed his arms stubbornly and pointed to Ryou’s back - clearly, if the paladins got jetpacks, it was only fair if the mice got them too.

“I’ve created a monster,” Ryou muttered. Even so, a smile grew over his face. “How about I make you guys your own armor, first? Then we’ll see about jetpacks.”

Immediately, all four mice bounded over to him, excited at the prospect. Ryou grinned at their enthusiasm, pleased to receive such honest joy. Honestly, he should have thought about this sooner. After the first time the Castle had been broken into (and the mice had launched their own assault), they should have gotten protection. Just in case.

Not that the armor protected against everything.

_ The whip collided with the side of his head. As the metal hook connected, the helmet shattered. Burning pain, as the red-hot cord sliced into his skin. _

Ryou blinked, listening to the gleeful squeaks rather than his memories. “I think we can do that. Do you guys want the bodysuits? I don’t think you’ll go out in space very often, and I can’t imagine it’d be fun with fur.”

Platt fluffed himself up and shivered, shaking his head, at the same moment Chuchule rapidly nodded yes. Their eyes met, and they started to chitter out an argument. Plachu immediately took Chuchule’s side, while Chulatt sided with Platt.

Resting his chin on his palm, and once again ignoring the pain, Ryou fondly watched them work it out. But when neither side seemed to be willing to give quarter, he held up his other hand. “I’ll make the undersuit, just in case. And you can choose then, okay? Now, how about colors?”

From there, they worked out the details of tiny armor for the mice. Ryou obediently wrote down colors as best he could, as the mice pointed to objects with the hue they wanted. After, he took careful measurements of each mouse. All the while, they mimed out suggestions, some of which he took (tail holes were essential), while others her vetoed (bayards were both too dangerous and out of his skill range).

By the end, Ryou had a nice little project next time he needed something silly to do, and the mice were satisfied as possible. While he sketched out and planned the armor construction, he handed over Mini Voltron’s controls to the mice. Between the four of them, they were able to work together well enough to fly the toy with minimal damage. 

There was a quiet knock at the door. 

Ryou whirled around sharply, heart in his throat. “Shiro,” he said, barely choking out the name. “I didn’t think you-”

He paused when he saw it was Allura.

Allura stilled, holding a covered platter in her hands. She frowned thoughtfully, then looked back down the hallway. “Were you expecting Shiro? I can leave you be.”

“Oh, no. Definitely not. You and Keith just usually aren’t down here, and he’s the only one that knocks. I assumed.” Ryou waved her in.

A small smile pulled at Allura’s lips, though it quickly faded. “Yes, that does make sense.” She set the platter down next to Ryou’s notepad, then pulled over another seat. “You missed dinner. I thought you might be hungry.”

Not really, but Ryou appreciated the thought. “Thank you.” He glanced at the mice, just to make sure they weren’t up to anything dangerous that he might be responsible for. They didn’t even glance away from their new toy, so he focused. “Was there something else you needed?”

Allura hummed thoughtfully. Her watchful eyes shifted to the platter, clearly taking in his complete lack of interest. But she didn’t comment, and instead folded her hands in her lap. “The mice have become very fond of you, you know.”

“You mean I spoil them outrageously, and they know a sucker when they see one.” Ryou gave a smile, though it was thin. “But yeah, I’ve noticed. They’re nice to have around and good listeners when I need to work out a problem.”

Allura mouthed the word ‘sucker’, which apparently didn’t translate. But she shook it off and continued on. “Yes, I find that as well. I often find concepts easier to manage when I have the chance to talk them out, even if just to hear the words out loud.”

“Exactly.” Ryou watched as they flew Mini Voltron through the narrow space between the top of the cabinets and the ceiling. The dangling feet scraped against the metal storage.

_ The sound of metal on metal as Ryou’s fist impacted the floor, over and over. Blood splattered onto his face and chest, and he kept going. He couldn’t stop. _

When Ryou blinked and looked back, Allura’s eyes were on him. “In much the same way, I find it easier to understand other perspectives when people walk me through their thought process.”

Ah. There it was. Ryou drummed his fingers on the table. “You want me to walk you through the plan, or what actually happened?”

“I think both would be appropriate.” Allura straightened and met his gaze. “I hope you understand, Ryou, that your actions were alarming. Not only for the plan, but that you chose to hide them in another mission. I may have altered my position on the team, but I still feel it appropriate to understand the situation in full.”

Ryou froze completely, his eyes wide. He slowly met her eyes, his stomach clenching so hard. “You’re evaluating me? To see if I should be on the team, still?”

“I believe it would be a temporary break at best,” Allura said. She didn’t flinch from his shocked gaze, though her hands did link together tightly. “I also think it’s best if I do this, instead of your brother.”

Oh. Yeah. Probably true. Shiro was probably angry enough to take Ryou off the team on principle.

Ryou closed his eyes, throat tight. He could still picture the first time he’d worn his paladin armor perfectly. His armor, not Shiro’s. A gift, shining white. It was the first time he’d really felt like he had a place on the ship. That he was just as much a part of the team as anyone else - not just a redundant copy taking up space.

And now he might lose it. Worse, Ryou couldn’t even argue it. He had made his choices with Tekron, knowing full well how dangerous they could be. He’d deliberately chosen to manipulate a mission for his own goals.

“Is Lance also going to be evaluated?” Ryou asked, unable to disguise how thick his voice had gotten.

Allura’s gaze and posture didn’t soften. “I’ll be speaking to him.”

“Please don’t.” Ryou leaned forward, fingers grasping air as he resisted the urge to grab her arms. “None of it was his idea. I made him promise he’d keep the secret, and told him that if he didn’t help, I’d do it alone. He was only being a good friend and keeping me alive. Please. He deserves his place on the team.”

Nothing in Allura’s posture shifted. “I’ll take it under consideration. But first, please walk me through the plan and what actually occurred.”

Ryou gave a sharp nod, his eyes falling closed. “Right. Okay. Um... well, it started when the Blades sent over this mission’s intel. I look through it all by habit, because I’m more likely to pick up context that Shiro’s forgotten, or that Keith never knew.”

“Were you looking for Tekron?”

“Not in particular.” Ryou finally met her eyes again, his shoulders slumped. “I have kept an eye out. I’ve had... suspicions that he might have still been around. Cockroach slimeball that he is. Was. But that’s not usually why I go through intel. I just never wanted Shiro to find him on a mission.”

Allura nodded, encouraging him to continue. “So you saw his name and recognized him.”

“I did. I knew Shiro couldn’t run into him without being reminded and being hurt. So I immediately suggested he take the furthest section, and that I get closer.” Ryou straightened himself up. “Even from then, I planned on confronting him. It was too dangerous to let him live. We could run into him later, and that wasn’t an option.”

Lips turning down, Allura leaned back further in her chair. She brushed her hair back as she processed. “You chose Lance to help you. Did you consider speaking to anyone else?”

“Briefly. Lance was...” Ryou paused, considering. Hunk had said it wasn’t a surprise. When he’d picked Lance to help, Ryou had been thinking of his utility. But had it also been comfort? “Lance seemed like the best option, and I only wanted to share with one person. Any more and the chances Shiro would notice increased.”

Taking a deep breath, Allura let it go slowly. Whatever she thought of that, she didn’t let it show. The neutrality sent shivers down Ryou’s spine, but he made himself keep meeting her gaze.

“I assume you confronted Lance with your plan before the mission.”

Ryou nodded. “Yes. It would have been too difficult to convince him in the moment, and unfair. I wanted him to have the opportunity to not participate, so I asked before teams were finalized. He didn’t want to, but he did it so I wouldn’t go alone.”

From there, Ryou walked Allura through the outline of the plan - get Tekron’s attention, pretend to be Shiro, bring him into Lance’s range. He had to appear to be alone, at least at first, because otherwise Tekron would be tempted to call in back-up. From there, Lance was to shoot Tekron somewhere to incapacitate him, and Ryou would end it. After, they could continue the plan as normal, and even tag Tekron’s body with one of the explosives, if need be. 

Obviously, it hadn’t gone that way. Ryou had frozen up, and then dove in the way of Lance’s shot. He’d been injured and in the way, which meant Lance was forced to fire before he had a clean line of sight, revealing himself. 

Every bad decision, every mistake, every choice had been on Ryou. He’d fucked up, not Lance.

So Ryou waited, head down, for judgement.

Allura was silent for a long moment. The room couldn’t be quiet, not with the mice playing obliviously behind them, but her lack of response was an oppressive force.

Finally, Allura sighed. “I admit, part of what I find disturbing about all of this is how premeditated it was. You’ve been watching intel for Galra from Shiro’s past for far longer than this.”

Ryou shrugged the bandaged shoulder and didn’t look up.

“But what truly bothers me is how ignorant we were, and that you planned it that way.” Allura paused again. “You really felt you couldn’t trust us with this.”

Head snapping up, Ryou finally looked at Allura again. Her neutral professionalism had cracked, like the armor under Tekron’s assault. He could see the vulnerability and hurt below. “It wasn’t a matter of trust,” he said quietly. He slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The more people who knew, the more likely Shiro would notice something was strange.”

“You didn’t believe in our ability to be discreet. I can understand why you felt the need to keep this from Shiro. It’s not my place to question that. But you could have come to me or Coran. We’re trained in diplomacy. You  _ know _ we can keep a secret.” Allura looked over his face again, searching deeply for something Ryou didn’t know how to give her.

That was a good point, but Ryou hadn’t been thinking that way. Lance had been his choice, which was pragmatic for the plan, but maybe not for secret keeping. Much like Hunk, Lance had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. But he hadn’t needed to keep the secret for long.

“It didn’t occur to me,” he admitted. Biting his bottom lip, Ryou shook his head. His foot bounced anxiously. “I was scared. Nothing mattered more than keeping Shiro safe.”

“So instead you exposed yourself to the danger..”

“That’s my job, right?” Ryou raised his right arm as if he was activating the shield. “Yellow Paladin. Blast through threats. Defend the team.”

Allura’s expression fell. “I hope you know that being the Yellow Paladin doesn’t mean we expect you to take blows for others.” She held out her hand and paused, making sure Ryou saw, before placing it on his knee.

“I-” Ryou winced. “Yeah, I guess I do know. But it’s Shiro.”

Simple as that. It was for Shiro, and Ryou would do anything to protect him.

Squeezing his knee, Allura withdrew. “I understand.” Slowly, she stood, brushing out her skirt.

Ryou watched her, fingers clenching around the edge of his seat. “Have you made a decision?”

“Well, for one, you certainly aren’t going on missions until you’ve healed.” Allura tapped her cheek where Ryou’s bandage was.

“And after?” Ryou didn’t relax at all, tense like a rabbit spotting a dog.

Allura considered him. “My fears are that you will continue to make under the table decisions and compromise the mission for your own goals. I also worry that you will put yourself in unnecessary danger when you could trust in the team. You are not a lone individual. Your actions have consequences for everyone around you.”

Ryou held his breath.

Allura’s gaze didn’t waver. Finally, she nodded to him. “We’ll discuss more another time. For now, I will not take the team away from you. I feel further isolating you would do more harm than good. While you heal, please consider the advice you would give to Shiro if he had taken similar actions..”

With a little bow, Allura left.

Ryou stared after her, hands limp in his lap. He looked back over at the mice, who had gone suddenly silent. They watched him in return.

Acting on instinct, a need he didn’t fully understand, Ryou reached out his hand, palm up.

The mice climbed up his arm and settled on his shoulders. They clung to him, nuzzling in and chittering comfortingly.

Because he was upset, and they wanted to make him feel better.

“Thanks,” Ryou croaked out. He ran a finger down their little backs and forced his breath to stay even and slow.

Ryou still wouldn’t take back what he did. But he thought he understood the team a little better now.

***

_ -He banged against the glass, both human hands scratching futilely. The cold water around him swirled and splashed, pulsing purple in time with his frantic heartbeat. If he screamed, if he yelled, the water would get in and fill him, but already his lungs were burning. _

_ Outside the glass, Tekron’s yellow eyes mocked him. That sadistic, smug grin said this was all exactly as he wanted it. At his feet, Lance was dressed in prisoner’s garb, the purple bodysuit hanging in bloody tatters. He was twitching, face a mess of tear tracks, and he stared right back. There was no understanding in his gaze, just begging and confusion. _

_ ‘Help me’, his eyes said. ‘Why aren’t you doing anything? Why are you just watching?’ _

_ Banging harder, he tried to swim out of the narrow tube. But his strength was flagging, darkness creeping into his vision. All he could feel at the top was metal, no precious air, no way to get out. _

_ “You’re still rebelling,” Tekron said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I know what you want.” _

_ The red whip rose and cracked down. _

_ Lance didn’t scream, though his face twisted in pain. His begging, betrayed gaze didn’t even blink. _

_ Finally, the need for air grew too great. He took a deep gulp, and the purple liquid poured into him. His struggles ceased, his desperation ceased, until he floated limply in the tube. Ice filled his heart and lungs, creeping through his veins to take control. _

_ “I made you,” Tekron reminded. The world faded, except for his glowing yellow eyes and fanged grin, like a demented Chesire Cat. “I made you.” _

Ryou woke, gasping for breath. His room was lit in a cold glow that stopped his heart, until he realized it was his arm that was on. The blanket was shredding around him, ruined in his quest to get free.

For one dizzying moment, he recognized he’d been dreaming, but not where it ended. When had the nightmare begun? He was in the Castle of Lions - had he never disappeared, and realized he’d come back wrong?

But his room was mirrored from how it should be, and strewn with technology. The desk against the far wall was piled with books on Altean engineering, and the finished Mini Voltron sat next to them, along with the remote control.

He was Ryou. He was a clone, but fixed. Better.

_ “I made you.” _

Tekron had meant Shiro. He’d meant the Champion, the fighter to control and mold. He hadn’t known he was talking to Ryou.

...Right?

When had he...?

Shaking off the thoughts, Ryou kicked his way out of the shredded blanket. He picked up Mini Voltron as he passed and shouldered his way through the door. 

Outside, the castle was dark and quiet. Ryou hadn’t even glanced at the time in his rush, but he had no doubt it was late. It had taken him hours to fall asleep in the first place. And now-

Well, he sure as hell wasn’t trying again after that dream.

Ryou didn’t think about where he was going, but he wasn’t surprised to find himself in the engine room. The heat coming off the center column and the various consoles didn’t warm the icy chill still locked in his chest, but it was better than nothing.

Starting down the bridge toward the center of the room, Ryou rubbed over his tired eyes, trying to focus.

Which was when he saw the dark shape at the end of the bridge, legs dangling over the edge.

The very familiar, nearly identical dark shape.

The dark shape that was half turned around to look at him.

“Shit,” Ryou breathed. He stopped dead and stared back at Shiro. Then he took a step back. “Sorry, didn’t realize this spot was taken. I’ll go.”

But as Ryou turned to leave, there was a long sigh. “You’re here because it’s warm, right?”

Swallowing hard, Ryou didn’t turn back around. His shoulders stayed straight and tense, like there was a gun at his back. “I am.” There was no sense lying about it, after all.

“Then stay.” The words were kind, but the tone was studiously neutral.

Ryou hesitated. On one hand, he didn’t want to be somewhere he wasn’t wanted, and Shiro was here first. On the other hand, he really did want to stay in the warmest room in the castle.

Finally, he stepped up next to Shiro, eyeing him. His brother had turned away again, and was resolutely staring at the glowing core of the engine.

“If I stay, can we just get it over with and talk?”

Shiro sighed and closed his eyes. His arms curved around his stomach, like he was holding it in place. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s nothing I want to say that’s constructive.”

“Then say something unconstructive.” Ryou sat down heavily next to him, settling Mini Voltron down next to him. He let his legs dangle as well. He hadn’t bothered to put on his slippers, so his bare feet hung. Like this, he could see all the way down to the base of the castle.

Shiro barked out a dark chuckle. “It’s tempting.” His grip on himself tightened. “I don’t know why you want to have this conversation, especially when neither of us are able to sleep.”

Ryou just shrugged. He didn’t know either, except that he wanted to rip off the bandage. If Shiro was going to yell at him, then might as well do it now, in relative privacy. “Why not now? Is waiting going to make it easier?”

There was no response. Shiro still didn’t look over, his eyes fixed ahead of him. Now, the glaze to his eyes made it clear he wasn’t seeing the room at all. “The wounds on Lance’s back... that’s what I was remembering. In the mountain. I recognized them.”

Ryou’s stomach dropped, as if it had fallen right off the edge of the bridge. For a moment, he considered lying and telling Shiro it was different. But confusing his memories more wouldn’t help anyone, and he didn’t feel up to lying more anyway. Last time had already gone so badly.

“It was,” Ryou said softly. “I knew what you were talking about immediately.”

Shiro nodded sharply. “I thought so. I’ve dreamt about it. Thought about it, too. Wondered, but you never want to tell me more. You never want to help me.”

Turning, Ryou tucked a leg under him and frowned at Shiro. “Is that helping? Or is it a way of hurting yourself?”

“Why is it your call?” Each word grew louder, more forceful. Shiro’s eyes cleared, centering in the moment, but they sparked with anger. Even so, he still didn’t turn to face Ryou. “Why do you get to be the one to decide what’s good for me and what isn’t? Why do  _ you _ get to have the last word for my mind, when I never gave it to you?”

Ryou flinched back, but refused to cower from Shiro’s growing temper. “Because I know the other side,” he said, firm despite the pounding in his chest. “I know how much it hurts.”

“So that gives you control over my memories? My brain?” Shiro finally turned, eyes still blazing. “Those are mine. Those memories are  _ mine. _ I’m an adult. I don’t need you to dole them out when you decide I’m  _ ready.” _

The words stabbed through Ryou, pulling open already raw wounds, like Tekron’s claws on his neck.

“I know they’re yours,” he replied, barely over a whisper. If they were Shiro’s, they weren’t Ryou’s.

But why could Tekron take him apart so easily?

“No, you never asked me to do this,” he continued. “You never wanted me to. But I have to. Shiro, I  _ have _ to. I can’t drop this on you. Drop  _ him _ on you. All the terrible things that happened in that year. I don’t even remember everything, but it hurt. It hurts to remember.” Ryou met his gaze, openly pleading. 

“They’re not yours to hold onto.” Shiro twisted complete around, climbing on his knees. It gave him several inches of height on Ryou, which he used as he crowded closer. “Tekron wasn’t yours to take on. To pretend to be me and fight him in my name. Ryou, that was- It was my memory to handle, my story to end, and you  _ took _ that from me.” He clutched at his pajama top, as if Ryou had gouged a hole in his chest.

Fuck, Ryou hadn’t even seen it that way. It hadn’t been the neat ending to a story of pain and triumph. It had been a dirty, necessary thing. A burden to take on if it meant Shiro never had to shoulder it. 

“Do you think it was a triumph?” Slowly, Ryou rose too, the words hissing out of him. “Do you think it was fun?”

For the first time, Shiro faltered. He watched Ryou warily, as if this was some trick. “Of course not. But it was closure.”

Ryou laughed. He couldn’t help it. The idea was absurd. “Closure. You think that ended it? One last fight and the nightmares are gone, and the story is wrapped in a neat little bow.” Ryou shuffled forward and jabbed a finger into Shiro’s chest. “You know why I did it, dear  _ original? _ Because it would have killed you.”

The thunder grew over Shiro’s face again. He grabbed Ryou’s left hand and squeezed it tight enough to ache. “You seem to have made it through just fine, and I’m the better fighter.”

“I would have died in a minute if it wasn’t for Lance.” Ryou kept his fierce eye contact, not flinching at the pressure around his hand. “When I saw that bastard? I wasn’t ready for a fight. I wasn’t ready for a final showdown. I stopped breathing. I nearly cowered against the wall.”

Shiro froze again, eyes wide. He stayed utterly still, as if even a blink would stop Ryou’s tirade.

But it couldn’t. Ryou should stop himself, but he wasn’t going to. Not while Shiro thought the Tekron fight was a  _ triumph. _

“I was in the cell again. I was waiting for him to reach the end of his game, stop giving enough rope for me to hang myself. I was waiting for him to take those I tried to help and kill them in front of me.” Ryou leaned in, until his face was inches from Shiro’s. Until all he could see where the wide, scared eyes. Identical to his own. “And then he did. Because he took Lance and whipped him till he screamed. And I sat there and did nothing, because I was afraid to move.”

Shiro shuddered. His eyes slammed closed as he pulled away. “You...” His voice cracked and a shiver ran through him. Each breath came out too fast and ragged, like a cornered animal. “But that was you.”

“You think I knew who I was, then?” Ryou snorted, utterly derisive. “No, dear original. I was  _ you. _ The only way I was able to snap out of it was when I remembered who  _ I  _ am.”

“So that’s it.” Shiro crossed his arms again, eyes on his lap. “That’s what you think. That I’m too weak, and you can handle it. That’s why you did it?”

Ryou threw up his arms. “It’s not a matter of weak! It’s not a matter of better, or deserving, or anything! I didn’t do it for the victory. I did it so you would  _ never _ have to face that bastard.” Ryou ripped the bandage off his face. “I didn’t want to see these marks on you again. I didn’t want you to face that  _ monster _ because you suffered enough, and the least I could do was take that one burden off your shoulders.”

Shiro’s eyes traced the red burn mark, from Ryou’s temple and down to his jaw. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out and touch. “Maybe not, the marks remind me. And I’ll see them whenever I look at this scar.”

That-

Ryou hadn’t thought of that.

He hadn’t gone into the pod, and now he was going to remind Shiro of Tekron every time he looked at him. His  _ face _ reminded Shiro of Tekron.

He’d done  _ everything _ to minimize that, and now he’d made it worse. His brother couldn’t look at him without dredging up those memories.

This was even more fucked up that he’d thought? Ryou had made this so much worse. What should have never been found out was a constant reminder, worse than the fight would have been. 

“I... I can... pod.” Ryou’s voice wouldn’t come. It was breathy, distant. He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn’t carry him. He lost his balance and hit down hard on his side.

“-ou?”

Reaching up, Ryou covered the mark with his hand, nails digging into the skin.

_ (Tekron’s nails digging into the wound). _

“Fix it. I’ll fix it. You won’t... I promise. Fix-” The words wouldn’t come, as if his lungs had been completely deflated. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Instead, he shuffled back, ducking his head to hide it, trying to get away. 

“Ryou!”

“Don’t look,” he tried to say, but there was still no sound. His lips moved, but nothing. He couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t even get up. How had Ryou ruined this so badly?

Hands gripped his and yanked them away from his face. Something wet dripped down. A face moved in close to his. Shiro’s. “Breathe. Breathe with me, Ryou. In...”

No. No, he shouldn’t be looking. He was seeing. Ryou tried to twist away and hide his face against the floor.

“Please.  _ Please, _ Ryou. Breathe with me, come on. You need to breathe. In...”

Finally, as Ryou’s vision narrowed in, he breathed in with Shiro. It came too fast, in and out before he’d reached three. But Shiro continued on, the same steady pace, and slowly, painstakingly, Ryou was able to match the counting.

Bit by bit, he became aware of the world again. He was in the engine room, on his back against the metal flooring. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face, and something trickled down his jaw. Shiro was over him, gripping both wrists, and openly terrified.

Oh. Panic attack.

Ryou went limp, eyes closed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to say.” Shiro slowly set him go and pulled away to let him up. “I said before this wasn’t constructive. This is just... raging.”

Ryou didn’t get up. There was still a tremble he couldn’t stop, and he honestly didn’t have the energy to move. “Then rage. Get it out. It’s not like I didn’t earn it.”

There was a long pause. “Is that what this is?”

God, Ryou didn’t have the mental energy for this anymore. “Getting out the rage? I don’t know anymore. You tell me.”

“No, I mean Tekron. That it’s okay to take these burdens. Let it happen to you instead.” Shiro brought his legs up to his chest and sighed.

Ryou blinked up at the ceiling. “I mean, yeah? It’s like you said. It’s not my trauma. Better for it to happen to me. It’s not mine.”

The world held a wealth of meaning. The very crux of Ryou’s being.  _ You’re not allowed to be Shiro. _ He didn’t get the name, the room, belongings, relationships. Even if he had the memory, he had no claim to the trauma. There was nothing  _ post _ about his PTSD, because he hadn’t lived through any of it.

“Then what just happened here, Ryou? If it didn’t happen to you, why did you just stop  _ breathing?” _

That-

Well, it was a good question.

“But it didn’t. I wasn’t alive then, probably.” Ryou finally pushed himself up onto his elbows. The effort felt like he’d run a 5k, not sat up.

Shiro just stared, his eyes pained. “You remember it like you lived it, because you remember it like I do.”

Shrugging one shoulder, Ryou flapped a hand. “I dunno, maybe? That’s the theory, but who really knows. The process of downloading the memories could have changed how I perceive them.”

“Not enough to keep them from hurting you.”

All Ryou could do was shrug again.

Shiro scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m an idiot. I knew you have nightmares too, but you seem  _ okay. _ You really do. I don’t see you freeze up or anything. When I asked at the mountain, you said you didn’t have these problems.”

“I don’t know that I do in the same way.” Ryou closed his eyes as well, because looking at Shiro’s pained gaze was exhausting him even more.

“Yeah, you’re a clone. But you’re a clone of me, and I’m apparently stupid. Because all this time, I didn’t realize that you were doing to me what I do to everyone else.” Shiro let out a wild little laugh, openly pained. “You act okay so you can be there for me. So you can take the hits, and so you never need to lean on me in return.”

Put like that, it sounded so  _ cold. _ Ryou shivered and finally forced himself into a proper sitting position. “It’s not like that.” He looked up at Shiro again, shoulders slumped. All of him ached, in a different way from the battle. His insides were battered and bruised. “I’m not hiding anything, not really. It’s stuff you already deal with on your own, on top of the coalition and all of it.”

“But you look after me.”

Ryou shrugged. “That’s my job.”

“That’s what I mean!” Shiro dropped his legs to face Ryou. “Why is it yours and not mine?”

“You’re busy.”

“How is that an excuse at all?” Shiro slumped, staring at Ryou. “I’m not someone for you to save or coddle, Ryou. You’re not my extra life. You’re my brother.”

Extra life. Where had he heard that-

Oh. He’d said it, before he went after Lotor’s generals. When he’d thought he was redundant, not worthy of any of the lions. When he’d been so desperate to do something  _ good. _

Ryou didn’t think of himself as a spare anymore, not really. But maybe he had never shaken all of that mentality.

“I’m here,” Shiro continued. He put a hand on his chest again, this time splayed out. “This isn’t a one-way street. I don’t want to dump and dump on you until you feel useful. We’re supposed to be family and look out for each other. I want to be equal. And that means not making decisions for me and letting me take on your burdens too.”

This was all so much.

Ryou curled his fingers against his face again. Only then did he realize the trickle had been blood. At some point he’d ripped open the cut on his face again. It couldn’t be badly, if it was only a trickle.

Clearing his throat, Shiro shuffled closer. “Ryou?”

What was the right thing to do? Ryou wanted to protect Shiro, wanted to be someone he could rely on.

But they were brothers. Family. So maybe Shiro had a point.

Rather than answer, Ryou slumped sideways until he crashed against Shiro’s chest. He never opened his eyes or even shifted to a more comfortable position. He just leaned, and let himself rest against Shiro.

Heavy arms wrapped around him, squeezing as if holding him in place. “We’re twins. Some things we share. And this is one, even if I wish it wasn’t.”

Ryou let out a bark of watery laughter. “Guess so.” He hid his face in Shiro’s chest. “I don’t like taking something of yours.”

“I know. But you can’t help it.” Shiro’s fingers carded through Ryou’s bangs, pushing them back. “You don’t have to live by that rule. You’re Ryou, and the things we share don’t take that away.”

Ryou’s fingers twisted into Shiro’s shirt, clinging tightly. “Okay.”

Holding him tightly, Shiro buried his face into Ryou’s hair. “Love you.”

“I know.” Ryou cracked a smile against the silky fabric. “Love you too.”

“If you ever call me ‘dear original’ again, I’m going to be upset.”

The smile turned into a chuckle. “Mm, see, now I know it annoys you. That’s interesting.”

Shiro sighed, managing to sound utterly put upon, despite the moment. “Well, I can’t blame anyone but myself for that.” He poked Ryou on the top of the head. “Turn around.”

Shifting, Ryou managed to move so his back was to Shiro’s chest. “Like this?”

“Yes.” Shiro dropped the abandoned Mini Voltron into Ryou’s lap, then settled in with his chin resting in Ryou’s hair. “Show me how to use it?”

It sounded like as good a plan as any. Settling back comfortably, Ryou picked up the controls and turned Mini Voltron on, letting him soar in little circles around them.

As he explained the controls, Ryou gave a tiny smile. It felt almost normal, like they were two real brothers staying up late to play with some toy.

And maybe Ryou would share the thought. He knew what Shiro would say - that they were real brothers, damn how it had happened.

For once, Ryou felt like he could reach out for that comfort. Like he could lean back and expect support.

He was  _ real. _

They would have more fights about this soon. The frustration of tonight had ended because of Ryou’s wounds, not a solid conclusion.

Even so, something had shifted. Ryou was hurt. Scarred. Changed.

Facing Tekron could never be called good. But in the aftermath, he’d been shown that his support network was there, and wanted to be used. From Lance’s immediate support, to Hunk’s steadiness, to Pidge’s demands not to be rescued, to Shiro’s frustrations, and even Allura and the Space Mouse cuddles - his whole team had been trying to explain something. A lesson Ryou had taught over and over, but never applied to himself.

People loved him. People loved  _ Ryou, _ and it was okay not to be okay. 

Tonight was hard. But tomorrow would be easier.

The rest they would handle.


End file.
